For awhile now, I have been meaning to write a post about my grandpa. He fought and earned a Purple Heart in WWII. Being a veteran was an important part of his identity so I think today would be a great day to write about him.
Specifically, I wanted to write about my grandpa's death. It's funny, but death is what solidified my decision to go forward with this whole IVF business to begin with. My grandma (on my dad's side, who I will write more about in a future post) died last March, and less than six months later, my grandpa (on my mom's side) passed away. Losing both of them, and the time I spent with my family right before and right after their deaths, made me so sure that I wanted to bring life into this world.
My grandpa had a stroke during the early morning on the last Saturday in July. At the time, I was in Wisconsin on a weekend "vacation" with E (my husband). For various reasons, I didn't find out about his stroke until later Saturday afternoon. My mom downplayed things and I assumed he would be fine. The next day, as we started on the 6.5 hour drive back home, my cousin called. And that's when it hit me - Grandpa hadn't just had a stroke, he was actively dying. So after the 6.5 hour drive, I got back in the car and drove 4 more hours to the hospital.
When I got there, Grandpa was still able to communicate (albeit with difficulty) and was fully aware of what had happened. He had a living will, he'd developed pneumonia, the stroke had left him disabled, and he'd decided he was ready to go. So we waited.
Tuesday evening ended up being one of the most amazing nights of my life. I'd meant to leave earlier that day, since it was feasible that he could hold on for weeks. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't say goodbye when I knew it might be the last time. So I stayed.
I spent most of the day sitting in his hospital room with other various family members. My cousins, who still had to go to work, would show up in the evenings. J, who works for FedEx, came straight from his shift in his uniform. He and I were sitting on either side of Grandpa's bed, the Twins game on the TV. At this point, Grandpa slept a lot of the time but had lucid moments in between.
A little while later, I told him that the Twins had hit a homerun. He then proceeded, with long pauses and somewhat labored speech, to talk about a house they had lived in back in Kansas City in the ‘60s. He then said something about my mom, and that was when my aunt explained that when they had lived at that house, there had a been a baseball field across the street, where my mom had played ball with the local boys (and apparently been pretty good).
He woke up for awhile, and said “you kids have been wonderful.” J and I looked at each other – it was the first time he’d started speaking in the past-tense like that. We told him that he had been a great grandpa, our voices seconds from cracking. He seemed to be having trouble breathing, so I asked him if he was comfortable. He said “very.”
I don’t remember exactly how things transpired from there, but soon after it was clear that Grandpa wanted to say goodbye to all of us. His tone was very final and sad, but also content. We each took turns telling him how much we loved him, and that it was okay to let go, that we would be okay and we would take care of Grandma. When my mom bent down to speak with him, he attempted to hug her (which he had not done at all the entire time he’d been hospitalized). He then looked right into my mom’s eyes for what seemed like five full minutes, their eyes full of tears.
So we took turns. Me, two of my cousins, my mom, my aunt, each of us telling him goodbye. My brother was not able to travel there, so I called him to see if there was anything he wanted me to tell Grandpa. “Just that I love him.” So, somehow, I got the words out, my voice cracking, and told Grandpa that I had just talked to my brother and he wanted him to know that he loved him. All Grandpa said was “I know.” It was so perfect, and so very sad.
Eventually someone summoned my grandma, who was at home resting after a very long couple of days. She spent a longtime by his bedside, and we all left the room for a little while so that they could say goodbye. Although their marriage had not been perfect (what marriage is?), they had been married for almost 60 years. She was as ready to let him go as she would ever be, relieved that he would soon be free of his physical discomfort and pain.
We waited by his bedside until he eventually fell asleep. We all felt like he might die that night, as he was clearly saying goodbye to us all. He ended up making it through the night, although his ability to communicate was very minimal the next day. The days passed, he slowly lost the ability to communicate, he slept longer, his breathing more shallow.
I left Wednesday morning, as I needed to return to my job. He was still alive on Friday and I again made the four hour drive. I arrived later that night. He had deteriorated significantly since Wednesday morning. It was hard to see him that way, as he was very much slowly dying before our eyes. He could not speak anymore, and his eyes had grown clouded. I could tell he was aware that I had arrived though, as he turned his head towards me. His eyes were open but I have no idea if he could see me at all. He could hear, so I told him I was there.
He died at about 3am the next morning. Another one of my cousins had spent the night on a rollaway next to him. He stirred before he passed, she woke up, and was holding his hand and talking to him when he died.
This entire time, he had not been alone for even a minute the entire week of his death.
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This whole experience made me realize how important family is to me, and how important it was to me to have known my grandpa. I think a lot of people, especially women, my age think they have “all the time in the world” to have babies and start a family. But you don’t. Nothing is a given.
For me, I knew what I wanted and it no longer made sense to put things off until it became more convenient. Because it would never be, and my parents would just get older, and I want them to be grandparents so badly. I used to think maybe I was crazy for wanting to have kids partially for my parents’ sake, to make them happy. Now I think it just means I truly am ready for this. I wish this was easier but it’s thoughts like this that make me realize it’s worth it.
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