It's so hard to say goodbye, Part One
Have you ever stared at death in the face and wish he'd just get it over with? I did this weekend.
After a long drawn-out battle with Alzheimer's, my grandfather passed away this evening. We've kinda known for the last two months that this day was on its way- he was taken to the hospital two months ago because he was having trouble breathing, but then they discovered that his colon wasn't working any longer. So after six weeks of drama in the hospital, my mom and aunt decided it was time to move him to a hospice, make him as comfortable as possible, and let him go. That wretched disease took away almost everything mental and physical about him- in his prime, he was a hefty man, with the strength and body of an ox; this past week, he was just a shadow of himself. And after the trauma he went thru during the first few weeks in the hospital, what was left of him mentally just retreated away, inside, where no one could penetrate.
On Friday evening, we thought it was the end. I called my mom to wish her a shabbat shalom, and she told me that she was running out to the hospice because he was in heart distress. I secretly walked around all shabbat with my cell phone, justifying that with the fact that I could not go 25 hours being in this limbo of not-knowing. But, no phone call came, and Saba lasted another night. We had already planned on driving up to NY on Saturday night for a wedding on Sunday- we planned to return Sunday night but packed for a week, in case we needed to stay. As we were running out of the apartment, I called my mom, who said that he's gonna go any minute, but I told her to tell him to wait for me. And indeed, he waited.
He waited long enough for us to pull up to the hospice in Queens at 12:45am. As I walked into his room, I slid next to his bedside, and saw my grandfather sleeping and breathing heavily. I gently bent over to kiss his forehead, thanked him for waiting for me, and that it was ok to go. I pleaded with him- told him we would all be ok and we'd take care of Savta, and that there was no need for him to suffer any longer.
But it turns out he did me one better- he waited until today, so that there wouldn't be sadness on my sister's anniversary, which was on Sunday. Always thinking about his family, that guy.
Life and death are so difficult to explain, to justify, to come to terms with. But if I'm positive about one thing, I'm positive about this: my grandfather has a one-way ticket to a seat near the Almighty. I'm no expert on these things, and certainly may be professing blasphemy at the moment, but he's suffered far too long and far too much for anything less. He lived a good life, for the most part. He was a man of chesed, loving-kindness and charity, always thinking about helping others, and always had family in the forefront. And I'm positive he will be rewarded for all of that in the World to Come.
We got back to DC Sunday evening. We brought up the suitcases we packed the night before, but just left them lying on the floor of our bedroom, somehow knowing that the time would come soon for us to pack up the car and make the drive north once again. And tomorrow, we'll be on the road again.
I feel myself fortunate to have grown up with all four of my grandparents. We saw our grandparents every single weekend until it was time to move out of the house and move away. Most are not as fortunate, and I feel blessed because of it. Grandparents have so much to give and so much to share with their grandchildren. I would never give up those years for anything.
After a long drawn-out battle with Alzheimer's, my grandfather passed away this evening. We've kinda known for the last two months that this day was on its way- he was taken to the hospital two months ago because he was having trouble breathing, but then they discovered that his colon wasn't working any longer. So after six weeks of drama in the hospital, my mom and aunt decided it was time to move him to a hospice, make him as comfortable as possible, and let him go. That wretched disease took away almost everything mental and physical about him- in his prime, he was a hefty man, with the strength and body of an ox; this past week, he was just a shadow of himself. And after the trauma he went thru during the first few weeks in the hospital, what was left of him mentally just retreated away, inside, where no one could penetrate.
On Friday evening, we thought it was the end. I called my mom to wish her a shabbat shalom, and she told me that she was running out to the hospice because he was in heart distress. I secretly walked around all shabbat with my cell phone, justifying that with the fact that I could not go 25 hours being in this limbo of not-knowing. But, no phone call came, and Saba lasted another night. We had already planned on driving up to NY on Saturday night for a wedding on Sunday- we planned to return Sunday night but packed for a week, in case we needed to stay. As we were running out of the apartment, I called my mom, who said that he's gonna go any minute, but I told her to tell him to wait for me. And indeed, he waited.
He waited long enough for us to pull up to the hospice in Queens at 12:45am. As I walked into his room, I slid next to his bedside, and saw my grandfather sleeping and breathing heavily. I gently bent over to kiss his forehead, thanked him for waiting for me, and that it was ok to go. I pleaded with him- told him we would all be ok and we'd take care of Savta, and that there was no need for him to suffer any longer.
But it turns out he did me one better- he waited until today, so that there wouldn't be sadness on my sister's anniversary, which was on Sunday. Always thinking about his family, that guy.
Life and death are so difficult to explain, to justify, to come to terms with. But if I'm positive about one thing, I'm positive about this: my grandfather has a one-way ticket to a seat near the Almighty. I'm no expert on these things, and certainly may be professing blasphemy at the moment, but he's suffered far too long and far too much for anything less. He lived a good life, for the most part. He was a man of chesed, loving-kindness and charity, always thinking about helping others, and always had family in the forefront. And I'm positive he will be rewarded for all of that in the World to Come.
We got back to DC Sunday evening. We brought up the suitcases we packed the night before, but just left them lying on the floor of our bedroom, somehow knowing that the time would come soon for us to pack up the car and make the drive north once again. And tomorrow, we'll be on the road again.
I feel myself fortunate to have grown up with all four of my grandparents. We saw our grandparents every single weekend until it was time to move out of the house and move away. Most are not as fortunate, and I feel blessed because of it. Grandparents have so much to give and so much to share with their grandchildren. I would never give up those years for anything.
posted by elanit | 9:33 PM
2 Comments:
Barukh Dayan Emet.
I don't think that your thoughts are blasphemous in the slightest - the memory of the righteous should be for a blessing. Your grandfather sounds like someone who made the world a better place.
Baruch Dayan Emet.
I echo David's words. I don't think that it is horrible to be having the thoughts that you were having. Look at it this way, you were hoping for the pain that your grandfather was having to be taken away, and you were selfless enough to be okay if that meant that he would die.
Waiting for a death can be one of the hardest things. Death is difficult, but Judaism provides for an outline of how to act (both mourners and those coming to give comfort), what to do and not and a structure for healing. There is none of that when the death has not yet occurred. While it may seem bad to say that it is a relief, it truly can be and it is okay to feel that way.
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