Good Bye, Grandpa

Thursdays were his day off. He was a pharmacist by trade, and often worked weekends.  And occasionally, on a thursday, my sister, Sara, and I would spend the day with him.  Inevitably, we'd ask Grandpa to get out the wheelbarrow and being a doting grandfather, he would.  We loved whenever he got out the wheelbarrow because we knew he was going to take us to the creek to throw rocks.  Sara would climb into one side, and I would climb into the other. Grandpa would push us down the road to where the asphalt gave way to a rock drive. We'd climb out the wheelbarrow and spend plenty of time picking up the pebbles and dumping them into the wheelbarrow.  After tossing a mountain of stones into the creek, and a thorough soaking of our sneakers, we'd pile back into the wheelbarrow and head back to his home.

September eighteenth marked his ninetieth birthday.  He still possessed a sharp mind, a quick wit, and a kind heart. Grandpa thought of others before he thought of himself. He was the consummate flirt, and could charm any woman of any age.  They loved and adored Grandpa at his assisted living.

October came, and he came down with pneumonia. Over the last few months, he's been in and out of the hospital. And each time he went in, a little more of him wasted away.  Three weeks ago, he entered the hospital one last time. His living will was very specific, no antibiotics, no life support of any kind. Nothing.  So, we've been watching and waiting for Grandpa to pass.

Last evening at five, my father called me and told me that Grandpa wasn't going to make it through the night. He had periods of severe apnea that were coming closer together. I made it to the hospital and was met by my family. One nurse who had been caring for him for weeks, was still sitting in his room. She was off the clock, having started her shift at three that morning, and working till noon, and yet she stayed. She was afraid she would miss his passing, as she had the weekend off.  At around eight, her parents came to pick her up, afraid she'd be too tired to drive home.  It was the most touching thing I've ever seen.

Sara, my parents and I stood vigil by Grandpa's deathbed watching and waiting. We laughed a little. We cried a little. We sang hymns. We told him it was ok to go. He didn't need to hang on any longer. His gasping was hard to hear, but as the evening wore on, he began to look less like he was struggling, and more like he was sleeping, bearing a peaceful countenance upon his face. As a family, we were undecided to stay or go. There was no way of telling how much longer he'd go on. We only knew it would be soon.

At one in the morning, we all decided to give up the vigil. We figured he could be yet another day and might need our strength to see it through.  Catching a nurse just outside his room, Dad let her know we were leaving.  She comforted us the best she could.  "Sometimes patients wait till after a holiday. Sometimes they wait till a relative from out of town gets to them. Sometimes they wait till the family leaves to pass, I think, because they don't want the family to see them that way. They might not seem aware, but I think maybe they're more aware than we realize." 

I walked to the car, got in, called Jeremy who, bless him, waited up for me.  Crying off and on the short ten minute ride to my house, I hoped I wouldn't get into an accident from blurry eyes. Jeremy greeted me with a huge hug and just held me while I told him how awful the roller coaster of emotions was, and how I didn't want to leave him to die alone. It was more awful to not know what to do, than was the thought of his actual passing.  We went to bed, and three hours later, my father called and woke me to let me know Grandpa had finally passed.

I am grateful for the long life he had. I'm grateful he didn't really suffer too badly at the end. I knew he wouldn't live for ever. But, I can't help miss him already.

Good bye, Grandpa.