Goodbye, Grandpa Dick

Things never quite pan out the way you imagine they will.  Case in point: I was able to take a mere three days off work and in doing so, snagged eleven days in a row without having to be at work over the holidays.  I have never before, during my working life, taken holiday time off, so I was pretty excited.  And the reason for my time off was that my little sister, Holly, was coming home to Michigan from Texas for Christmas.  So, by taking the days off, I could be with her and my brother and my folks and Ron and we could all just chill at my parents’ house in Alma.  I imagined us playing endless board games and sitting by the fireplace swapping stories and going out for late night coffee or Slurpees and just being siblings again, all together, and in the company of Ron and our folks and other Alma friends.  This seemed like it could shape up to be a very relaxing time off and I imagined returning to work refreshed and well-rested.

So, tomorrow I go back to work after my eleven day hiatus, but I am in no way feeling rejuvenated.  Not that I am not grateful for the time off and wonderful moments with family and friends.  Plus, the timing of it all really did lend itself useful to being there for my family during this time.

I learned on December 23^rd, the day Ron and I headed up for Alma with a car packed full of gifts and two freshly washed dogs, that my Grandpa Dick had fallen the night before and fractured his shoulder and hip.  He was in the hospital and would have surgery on the hip on the 24^th.  We didn’t get up to Alma until late due to a busy day preparing to be away from home for a week . . . not to mention getting pulled over and being issued a speeding citation on the way.  I did not have a chance to go see Dick before the surgery, which would have been the last chance to see him conscious.

Dick is not my biological grandfather.  My Grandpa Bill passed away before I was a year old.  My Grandma Betty married Dick in 1985, so he has been my grandpa for many years and was my last remaining grandfather.  Over recent years, through visits and phone calls, I had grown closer to Grandpa Dick.  I was impressed by the way he cared for my grandmother, cooking her meals, doing the shopping for the household, doting on her in every way.  He was kind to others and had a great sense of humor.  He had an excellent collection of photographs from his time in India during World War II and would happily indulge me in hours of looking at and talking about the pictures.  When Ron was diagnosed, Grandpa Dick faithfully checked in every so often to see how he was doing and if there was anything he could do to help.  It is all these kind and gentle acts that I will miss.  I also regret not being able to spend more time with him to get to know him better, for I am sure there are stories he didn’t get a chance to tell me about.

On Christmas Eve, Grandpa Dick’s surgery went longer than expected.  When it was done, he did not return to a regular room.  Instead, he went to the critical care unit.  When I called the hospital that evening, they told me he had not come out of the anesthesia and that there would be little point to visiting.  So, we didn’t.  We went to church, which is a Christmas Eve tradition for our family.  Church actually threw me off a bit.  I found myself crying uncontrollably for the first 5-10 minutes.  I think just the combination of things going on in my life, with Ron and Grandpa Dick, and seeing the name of a friend and former colleague that passed away due to cancer earlier this year, and being in that familiar place of worship . . . I just lost it.  I thought I was going to have to leave the sanctuary because I just could not get it together.  But, with my sister at my side, the sobs eventually subsided and I focused on singing the holiday hymns and I made it.  I learned I was not alone in feeling so much sadness.  I left feeling overwhelmed with sorrow . . . both my own and for a dear friend who was also having a rough time. 

On Christmas, my brother and sister and I went to see Grandpa Dick on the critical care unit.  He still had not come back to consciousness and his kidneys were not working properly.  We all cried and touched him and talked to him, telling him he was loved.

We continued to visit Grandpa throughout the week.  There were a few moments when his eyes opened briefly and he seemed to be struggling to come to consciousness.  This happened particularly when Grandma was there to visit with him or if we said her name.  Once, we saw him actually move toward her and try to kiss her.  We were also visiting Grandma Betty in her home, where she is alone now after so many years in his company.  She relied on Dick to do so much for her and needs someone to help take care of her.  So, I began to make calls and look into options for assisted living for her during my week at home.  What little progress I made, I have passed on to my father and uncle to further pursue now that I am back at home, but I do continue to worry about Grandma.  She had such a hard time remembering what was going on . . . and having to tell her over and over about him being at the hospital, and then later that he was gone, was (and may continue to be) heartbreaking. 

On December 29^th, my uncle called to say that the hospital staff did not think Grandpa Dick had long and that if we wanted to see him, we had better come right away.  My brother had gone home with a severe sore throat that he did not want to infect anyone else with.  So, Holly and I, along with my parents, went to the hospital to meet my cousin and uncle and Grandma Betty.  She was clutching his hand and intently watching his face.  His mouth hung open and eyes were closed.  His breathing was slow and labored.  I went to his side and touched his arm and his face and named the people in the room with him.  In touching him, I got the sense he was tired and needed to be released.  I asked my grandma if she could give him permission to leave his body.  She said no, she would not agree to lose him; she needed him, she told me.  She clung to his hand.  He took another sharp, ragged breath. 

I could not say aloud what I was thinking and wanting for Grandpa Dick, because it was what my grandmother didn’t want.  But, I didn’t want him to suffer.  I wanted him to know it was okay to let go . . . that he did not need to be so tired and did not have to try so hard anymore . . . that at age 95, he had lived a long and full life and had taken care of my grandmother for 26 years.  I continued to pet his upper arm.  In my head with my eyes closed, I just concentrated on telling him that he was free and could go and was safe and did not need to be scared.  I told him he was surrounded with love from the people around him and that I would stay with him until he was safely ushered out of his body.  His breathing became more sporadic.  There were long pauses between breaths during which I would open my eyes to see if he was still there. 

Holly must have seen and sensed what I did . . . that he was hanging on because Grandma Betty had not given him permission to let go.  She asked Grandma again whether she would do this and we both tried to rationalize with her that Grandpa Dick would not want to be alive like this, that he needed peace and that if she could find it in herself to release him, it would be for the best.  She never really articulated it, but we both saw her let go of his hand a little, for a moment.  Then, after several minutes without another gasping breath, we realized he was gone.  The nurses confirmed that he was not breathing and had no heart beat.  Grandma Betty had them repeat this information several times.  She stood, with my and Holly’s assistance, from her wheelchair to kiss him goodbye.  She kept saying, “Do you think he’s really gone?” and we kept assuring her that he was and that he was in a better place now where he was not feeling any pain.

I had never before been in the room with someone when they died.  I was glad to see it was so peaceful for him.  Of course, it popped into my head to be grateful that I had the opportunity to witness and be a part of this before it happens to Ron . . . and then I banished that thought because I don’t like to think about it and feel weird for even writing it.

The remaining two days of my Alma stay were busy and exhausting.  There were funeral arrangements to be made, phone calls to notify friends and family of Dick’s passing, and an obituary to write.  I helped out as much as I could and felt strangely grown-up, which I guess I am supposed to be now.  I admit that I didn’t like it much – this sense of responsibility.  I also spent time with Grandma, just being with her and trying to help her, which was sad and worrisome.  None of it seemed like enough, because it didn’t change the fact that he is gone.  So, I wound up feeling really tired from it all.

Grandpa Dick’s funeral was on New Year’s Eve.  I had nothing to wear, since I had not packed for a funeral, and wound up wearing my mother and sister-in-law’s clothes and shoes.  Ron felt up to coming to the funeral and I was glad he was there.  Dick, of course, did not really look like Dick inside the silver colored box, but he did look peaceful, so I took comfort in that and in Ron’s warm hand holding mine.  It was nice to see my extended family afterward, since we don’t get together all that often.  And then Ron and I raced home (no speeding ticket this time, though) to meet with some wonderful friends of his to ring in 2012. 

Although I do not feel at all ready to return to work, I do feel better having put to words the experience.  And I can say that I am grateful for the time off, for an extended visit with Holly and my family, for having Ron with me when a year ago at this time we did not know whether he would still be living, for being able to help out some with all the stressful things that came up during the week, for being a part of Grandpa Dick’s peaceful passing, for seeing Grandma Betty’s smile and tears, for having the chance to see and reconnect with a few close friends, for thoughtful Christmas gifts from Ron’s and my family, and for a really lovely New Year’s Eve and Day with friends.