Yesterday was my Grandfather’s 87th birthday. All of the family gathered at his home to celebrate with him. My Oma said it was the first birthday party he had ever had as an adult.
For years, I’ve been told that my Grandpa “didn’t have much time left” due to various and serious health problems. And every single time that I’ve been told that, I’ve become hysterical because, well, he’s has been the best grandfather that a child could ever ask for. The thought of him not being around to call on the phone and laugh with, or to watch him interact with my children was simply too painful to deal with. Every time, I felt like he still had too much to offer those who love him to leave this world. Despite his heart problems and diabetes, he was still able to live a functional life. And he was still 100% mentally sound.
The last few times I’ve visited him, that hasn’t been the case. He’s in obvious and constant pain. And every time, his speech is worse, his breathing is more labored.
Yet, every time, I secretly hold on to a little bit of hope that he’ll pull through this.
Not yesterday. Yesterday, the reality that my grandfather is dying truly sank in. For the first time, I truly understood that he’s suffering beyond measure.
I don’t want him to suffer.
Every night when I pray, I ask God to let my Grandpa live a little longer. After my visit with him yesterday, I don’t think I can pray that way anymore. It’s a completely selfish prayer. I want him around longer because I am not ready to let him go, not because it’s in his best interest to live longer.
Tonight, I will ask God to not allow him to suffer any longer. I will ask him to give my grandfather peace and to take away all of his pain and suffering. He doesn’t deserve to live this way– especially not when he’s lived such a selfless, honorable life.
