Today is the first holiday since my Grandpa’s death.
And today was the day that I would have picked up the phone, called him and thanked him for his service to our country.
Today is the day I would have told him how proud I am of him, like I did every Veterans Day.
But today, I couldn’t pick up the phone to make that call and it hurt like hell.
The initial wave of pain that I felt when he died has been replaced with a sadness I can’t quite explain.
A part of who I am died the day that he left this earth and today I felt the sting of that loss. I can no longer refer to my Grandpa in the present tense. That part of my life is history and a new phase has begun. The phase in which I refer to my Grandpa in the past tense.
I know there are happier days ahead and I look forward to the day I can think about Him and not feel an incredible emptiness in my heart. I look forward to the day I can speak of him in the past tense and feel joy for having had him in my life for as long as I did.
We’ll Call This One “Sick of Swimming. Sick of Swimming”
G-Unit puts her spin on a Disney classic. Good luck in trying to figure out which one. Ha!
Because I Never Want to Forget This
This morning when I was trying to wake The Middle Child up, he wouldn’t budge. I pulled the covers away just a bit in an attempt to wake him. When I did, I saw the silver watch laying next to him. It was my Grandpa’s favorite watch. The day after he died, my Grandma gave it to Ethan because my Grandpa had said when he died, he wanted him to have it.
“Ethan” I whispered. “Why is Opa’s watch in your bed, sweetie?” I asked him. He turned towards me, slowly opened his eyes and said “because I was missing him so much last night. I wanted to feel close to him.”
It’s those little moments that are incredibly hard to process. Trying to help my children deal with their loss and sadness and my own at the same time. As a mother, you never want to see your children in pain– physical or emotional. But it’s especially hard to deal with when there’s nothing you can do to lessen the pain that they feel.
I am trying my best– I listen when he needs me to. I reassure him that Opa knew how much he loved him. I tell him that some day it won’t hurt as bad as it does in this moment. I hold him close when he needs to cry and I give him space when he needs to be alone. I can only hope that I’m doing right by him in helping him through his grief.
Because I Never Want to Forget This
The day after my Grandpa died, my Grandma gave each of my boys something that belonged to their Opa. She gave The Teenager his pocket knife. She gave The Middle Child his favorite silver watch.
This morning when I woke Ethan up for school, I pulled his covers back just a bit. When I did, I saw the shiny, silver watch laying next to him.
“Why is Opa’s watch in your bed, Sweetie?” I asked.
“Because I miss him and I want to feel close to him.” He said.
Because… why the hell not.
Yesterday PigHunter gave me orders to buy new “casual clothes” to wear around the house. Apparently, he’s sick of seeing me in a black tank top and black sweat pants when he comes home from work.
I explained to him that I do get dressed every morning, but as soon as I pick up Gabbers from playschool at noon, the clothes come off and sweats go on. I want to be comfortable when I’m sitting in this chair working.
“Well, then get some different colored sweats, I’m so sick of seeing you in black when I get home.”
He’s not one to comment negatively on my appearance, so I took what he said to heart and vowed to do a little shopping for myself. I figure I can make my husband happy while helping the economy out at the same time. From what I’ve read, the economy can use a little help so I think one of you should do a little shopping with me. I’m going to purchase a $25 amazon gift card. At 5pm, I’ll randomly choose a comment from this post and that person will receive an e-mail gift card from me tonight.
Comments now closed. A winner will be announced shortly. Woo! Shopping!
And the winner is…
CharmingBitch.
Remembering
Yesterday was the first good day that I’ve had since Grandpa died. The anger had somewhat subsided and even though I felt sad, I didn’t cry at all.
Everything changed when I tried to go to sleep. When I closed my eyes, I could see my Grandfather laying in his bed, blue from lack of oxygen, swollen beyond recognition, tongue hanging out of his mouth, double it’s normal size. I could see him flailing around in the hospital bed, eyes swollen shut, unable to talk. I could see his wrists strapped to the bed and the blood around the IV.
I try to think back to when he was happy, full of life and full of funny stories that would make anyone who heard them laugh. I try so hard to go to that place, but I always come back to the horrific images of him in his final hours.
Is this something that time will heal? Because I don’t want to remember that day, or the way that he died. I want to remember his sense of humor, the way that he loved his family and the honorable life he lived.
I’ve been scanning pictures of him all day– I want to make a slide show for the memorial service. As hard as it is, it is helping to remember the good times. I just hope that when I close my eyes to sleep tonight, I can see the images here before me now, and not the ones that tormented me last night.
Grieving
I want you to know that the kind messages left here have been a great comfort to me. The last two days have been the most emotionally exhausting days of my life. The pain I feel from the death of Grandpa is overwhelming at times. Especially when I have to comfort my children whose hearts are broken by the loss. I am also dealing with anger about his final hours. I can’t erase the picture from my mind of my Grandpa laying in his bed, unresponsive, turning BLUE and my aunt saying “He’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine! We don’t need to call 911. He’s just reeeeeeeaaaally sleepy from the pain medication!” (Translation: Let’s just let him die here in his bed due to lack of oxygen because I’m tired of taking care of him and hey! He wanted to die in his bed anyway!) My siblings wouldn’t stand for her Crazy, so we called 911 shortly after we arrived so that he could get the treatment he needed and die in peace and comfort.
I’m SO ANGRY about it. But mostly sad. Sad that he’s gone. Sad that it happened the way that it did. Sad that people could be so cruel. Sad that my last memory of him is so devastatingly horrific.
My Grandma has chosen to have him cremated. There will be a graveside, military funeral next Thursday. (He had a purple heart from WW2. His tank was struck by a missile, he was the last one to make it out before the tank was struck, but he was severely wounded by the shrapnel.) Having to wait a week to bury is tough, but I look forward to that day so we can lay him to rest and life can get back to normal around here.
My Grandpa: October 5, 1921- October 14, 2008
Dear Grandpa,
I am so relieved to know you’re not suffering anymore. At the same time, I can’t believe you’re gone. I can’t believe I’ll never see you again, I’ll never talk to you again, I’ll never get to tell you that I love you again.
Thank you for giving me an amazing childhood, for always telling me how much you loved me and for always making me laugh. You always made me feel as though I was the most special person in the world. You saved my life when I was a teenager–without your understanding I don’t know that I would have survived. Thank you for standing up for me when I needed it the most.
I picked up the memory book you filled out for me for Christmas as soon as Dad told me you died. I can’t thank you enough for doing that for me. It will be invaluable as I learn to life my life without you in it, because your handwritten words will live on forever.
Yesterday as we were sitting around your bed, Grandma told everyone the story of how “I was the reason you quit drinking and started going to church.” She told us that one day when we were spending time together, I wrapped my arms around your neck and said “Grandpa, please don’t drink beer anymore. I want you to go to heaven so that when we die, we can be in heaven together.” She said you never took another drink after that day. Now that I’m an adult, I know you would have gone to heaven even if you drank beer, but the fact that you stopped out of your love for me is overwhelming. I can’t wait to thank you for that when we meet again in Heaven. You truly were the greatest man I’ve ever known.
I love you and I will miss you every day for the rest of my life.
Not a Good Day.
I was going to attempt my first (and last) photoshop tutorial this morning.
Then, I got a phone call from my Dad.
“They can’t wake your Grandpa up.”
I immediately left to go be with him and the rest of my family. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.
When I entered his bedroom, I saw my Grandpa laying on his side, shirtless. His tongue was swollen to the point that it was hanging out of his mouth. His face was swollen to the point that he was unrecognizable. He was taking short, labored breaths. His hands were purple. His face was turning purple.
911 was called.
Tension among family members erupted.
Angry words were exchanged.
Tears were shed.
So many tears.
“Pulse is low. Between 25-30. Oxygen levels are low. around 60%”
He was taken to the hospital. Pain medication and failing kidneys were the problem. His heart rate came back up, oxygen levels went back to normal and his color came back.
But his face was still swollen. He was still unable to talk or open his eyes.
He was kicking and flailing his arms when I went to see him in the hospital room. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked the nurse. “He probably doesn’t like the oxygen mask” she said.
I got close to him, put my mouth close to his ears as I struggled to keep it together. “I’m here, Grandpa.” I said. I began to rub his face. “I’m here and I love you, Grandpa.” His mouth began to move and he began to mumble.
I like to believe he was trying to tell me that he loved me too.
My cousin was in the room with me. We looked at each other. “This is horrible.” I said. “I can’t bear to see him like this.”
“I know.” He said.
And then he broke down.
And then I broke down.
I made it back home sometime this evening. My mom called just now to tell me he has a very contagious skin infection and that I should shower with hot water. She also said that they’re moving him to ICU. If he makes it through the night, they’ll release him to hospice tomorrow and let him come back home to finish the rest of his days.
And she chose Ariel
This may be the first time in the history of me being a Mother that I didn’t wait til the last minute to buy a costume for a child of mine. Damn, it feels good.
