On Tuesday of last week, we received a call from the hospital. It was my grandma and she was uncharacteristically crying. She said we needed to get there immediately because my grandpa wasn't doing well. I called my uncle and we left. I didn't feel like we could get there fast enough. It's a good thing I wasn't driving or we would have surely gotten pulled over. When we got there we went straight to the ER and his room. It was worse than I could have even imagined. He was gasping for breath and his eyes were rolling into his head. I felt like the nurses weren't doing enough. I felt like it should have been more frantic. More doctors. The doctor took my mom and grandma into the hallway and told them he had pneumonia and probably only had a few hours left. They then took him upstairs to the oncology ward. I asked the nurse why they couldn't just take the fluid from his lungs and she said he was producing it faster than they could remove it. They gave him a drug to try and drain the fluid from his lungs to his kidneys. Within three hours, his breathing slowed. My mom, grandma, Shawn, Jasmine and myself were all with him when he took his last breath. I don't wish that on anyone. Looking back it seems like an awful dream. It's a dream I won't ever be able to forget.
This last week there hasn't been much time to think about my grandfather's passing. There have been arrangements to be made, flowers to be ordered and then of course the viewing and funeral. Now I feel like I'm just walking around in a daze. I try not to think about anything at all. I can't deal with it all yet. It's just too painful. I've been torturing myself nightly with Johnny Cash cd's. (grandpa loved the man in black) I don't know if it's very healthy or not. Doesn't really make a difference because I would still listen to it even if it wasn't. Grief is a funny thing. I lay in bed and sob so hard that I feel like my lungs will bruise and yet I never feel any better. I think maybe if I cry a little longer or a little harder the pain might not be so close. That's never the case though. The more I cry the worse I feel. I end up feeling sadder than I had started out feeling and tired. It's not good to not cry at all though. I just haven't found a balance yet. My aunt Jeri told me that grief has no time line. It doesn't get better and stay that way. It sneaks up on you six months later and you go through it all over again as if it had all happened just days ago. You never really get over the death of someone you loved. It's a never ending process.
It's hard to tell how my grandma is actually doing. She's very cryptic and hides her emotions. You have to pay very close attention to her to know what she feels. We've been spending a great deal of time with her and will continue to for as long as needed. Now I know that if she was doing fine living in that house alone, she would tell us we don't need to come over so often, that she's ok. But she doesn't say that so I know she's not. I don't expect her to be. Her kids are the same way, except for my mom. The only way I know how my uncles are doing is by asking their wives. If you ask them they say they're fine or make a joke. That's how most of my family is but you know they're not.
