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.
“Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it”
Even though I have been working for a year, it’s different now. Now my full attention and time is required, not just a few hours every morning. I am blessed to be able to work from home so that I am physically still here for my children, but I am no longer able to provide the attention that my daughter needs throughout the day, so proper child care has been arranged. Starting tomorrow, she will be spending her mornings at Playschool and one day a week with Grandma. I allowed myself to cry about it last night– I have loved my short few years as a full time stay at home mom. However, I know that I’ve made the best decision for my family and that I am doing what I SHOULD be doing. This new position will not effect my boys much. I’ll be here to send them off to school properly and I will be here when they return from school. I’ll still be able to make breakfast and help them with homework. It is my daughter who will be affected as she will no longer be home all day with me and I will no longer be able to take her places whenever the mood strikes. That said– I know my daughter will thrive in her new environment and that the time I will spend with her will be that much more wonderful. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz.
As sad as this drastic change feels at the moment, the truth of the matter is that I really do have the best of both worlds. And I am grateful.
Accepting Reality
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.
Proof That Growing Old Together is Awesome Fun!
“Hey, babe. I saw nose hair trimmers at Rite-Aid. I think I’m going to go back and buy one.” –PigHunter, shouting at me from the bathroom while shaving.
And finally… some good news.
When my husband was laid off, my initial reaction was panic and fear. Mostly because I feared we’d lose health insurance. With 3 kids and an autoimmune disease, that’s a frightening thought.
After the fear and panic subsided, I made a decision to stop with the tears and figure out a way to make sure that didn’t happen.
I sat down and wrote a letter asking for a full time position with a company that I company that I had already been working with for the past year. I put my insecurities and fears of rejection aside and pointed out all of the reasons why I’d be an excellent addition to the company. That kind of confidence doesn’t come naturally to me, it’s much easier (and cowardly) for me to point out my faults and weakness. But I have to say, highlighting my strengths and abilities was empowering. I felt SO DAMN GOOD about myself when I finished that letter and hit “send.”
I also felt scared.
Scared of being rejected. Scared of hearing “Thanks, but no thanks.”
I waited a few days without hearing back. But then, I got a phone call that changed my life. Our lives.
I got the job. A full time job, work at home job with a real salary that will allow me to help provide for my family and that eliminates the fear of losing my health insurance.
Today is my first official day and I am so happy I could scream.