Our Sadness Runs Deep

Yesterday at around 8:00 a.m. my grandfather stepped into eternity. When I received THE CALL, I rushed to my grandparents' house. I had the honor of seeing him before the funeral home took him. Although viewed by some as macabre, I had to see him. Even though his spirit was gone and humanity is merely dust, I needed to touch him. He was still warm and his eyes were open and fixed. It's been a tough journey; however, in my heart, I feel it was his appointed time. Witnessing dying and death makes one introspective and cognizant of our spiritualness. It reminds us, at least me, of how we are spiritual beings.

On Tuesday night, my mother and I stayed over at my grandparents' house to take care of him while my grandmother had a rare opportunity to sleep. She was exhausted and weary. We took shifts. My shift was the first shift of which I still maintain was the more difficult shift. He was restless and, I suspect, in pain. I had to give him more medicine, morphine and lorazepam, in an oral syringe. What broke my heart is I had to call him George so that he didn't know it was his granddaughter taking care of him. He was such a strong and proud man and did not want his daughters and granddaughter to see him in a weak state. But, even though he wasn't talking and I'm not sure how much he could see, I felt like I was deceiving him and he knew it. As he moved, his sheet kept coming down revealing his body wasted away from the cancer. Silently, from behind him, I had to pull his sheet up to help him preserve his dignity. Petrified, my heart was racing because I felt like he was more aware of who was there than what we thought. Desiring him to know how much we valued and loved him, I was hoping if he was perceptive that he understood we weren't trying to shame him but to help and demonstrate our deep love for him.

The night before he died, I was able to rub his arm and kiss his head after my dad and I helped position him in the middle of the bed. He opened his eyes and I don't know if he knew who kissed him but, in my heart, that was my goodbye. Through it all, I had the privilege to have a very small part of his care and illustrate the depth of love and admiration I have for both of my grandparents.

As I made his bed yesterday, after the funeral home took his body, I looked around his bedroom and saw the painting my aunt had done for him, a goofy cat I drew as a child tacked on the wall near his dresser mirror, and pictures of his family. I thought to myself, this man loved his wife, his two daughters, and his granddaughter. In his mind, his most valuable possessions were those that reminded him of the loves of his life.

That will be the legacy I will remember...

Yikes!

I cannot believe that it's been over 3 months since I have posted. Of course, why should that surprise me? Looking over this blog with it's 6 whole posts, I'm hitting it about every 3 months! So, I've developed a track record. Yippee. At least I'm consistent.

What's new, what's new?

Grandpa is still with us. We have had moments of bliss where we thought he was going to rally. Even though his prognosis was imminent death, we thought he would die strong; if that makes any sense. Although he has finished his 4 rounds of chemotherapy and radiation and knocked back the tumors, he's wasting away before our very eyes. My feeling is that his general health has declined not so much because of the cancer but because of his malnutrition. He does not want to eat as food tastes like dirt. I almost cannot blame him. Through all of this, even though I can surmise what may be best for him; i.e. not smoking anymore, eating well balanced meals, getting rest, I am not him. I'm not the patient sitting there with regrets wondering what will happen at the end of my life. I'm not the one who has to watch my wife watch me slowly fade away.

It is absolutely heart breaking. I'm the only grandchild and very close to my extended family on my mother's side. So, I feel like I experience the pain more than maybe most grandchildren. Perhaps that is presumptious on my part. For those of you who are grandchildren who have watched their grandparents die, I humbly apologize if I am discounting the pain you felt.

In my eyes, my grandfather was invinsible. I know he smoked and drank rather large quantities. However, ironically, I truly believed that it would never catch up to him. He was larger than life in my eyes, especially growing up. He used to weight lift and studied Karate. He played the classical guitar with such skill that one's ears would stand at attention ready to be dazzled. Just 6 years ago he helped my husband and I move. He was strong. He was brilliant. Although, I do not think he even graduated high school, he was one of THE most well read individuals among my acquaintance. His vocabulary was expansive. Now he cannot even finish a sentence from memory loss due to the cancer, chemotherapy, and radiation.

My grandmother has finally called hospice. I'm hoping they can bring comfort to my grandmother and quality to my grandfather's last days. Because let's face it, in all likelihood, these are his last days. And all I can think of over and over and over again is where will he spend eternity? Has he made peace with his God?

He is a special man, full of special qualities and I have had the rare privilege of knowing a truly gifted person.

Grandfather

Four days ago we learned my grandfather has lung cancer. Not only lung cancer, but a huge tumor filling the whole of his right lung (all lobes) with metastatic lesions in his left lobe, liver, lymph nodes, and brain. In those four days, I have experienced a plethora of emotions from sadness, to anger, to guilt, to hope, to hopelessness, and so on and so forth. He was told if he does nothing, we're looking at six weeks, maybe. If he does chemo and radiation, possibly nine months to a couple of years, maybe. Even as I'm writing this, I just can't form or even expound on the height of the situation. It's too painful, too tiring. And anything else seems frivolous to write about. So, with that being said, I bid you adieu for the moment.

Will You Take My Trash, Please?

Oh yes... my neighbor had the privilege to see me running down the alley last week with 2 bags of garbage in one hand and my trash can in the other hoping the waste management crew would have pity on me and take my "gifts."
My husband was sick and I thought I would have plenty of time to get the garbage out in the morning for the garbage truck, as they have been running late this winter.
To add insult to injury, the walk way from the house to the garage was not shoveled out.
So, I hear the garbage truck just outside the garage, shove my feet into my scrub clogs, and run out to catch it. If one were to walk slow, one could maneuver through the snow by stepping in already made footprints. But, I was in a hurry. So, I briskly walk to the garage trying not to slip all the while gathering clumps of snow in my shoes. I hit the garage door opener and it opens just a fraction. I hit it again, it went up. I don't know what that was all about because that is not a frequent occurance. But, the universe was aligned to make Pamela look foolish that morning. So with my free hand, I grab the trash can that is full and run out of the garage into, probably, a foot of snow then into the alley yelling at the waste management crew, as they could not hear me over their truck.
Meanwhile, my neighbor, who is sporting a lovely (sarcasm) grey robe in under 10 degree fahrenheit weather standing in his driveway monitoring the crew, looks at me as if to say, "You're crazy."
I'm not yet sure who the crazy one is!
I was invigorated; however, due to the snow that was packed into my shoes. I tip toed back to the house, trying to follow the footprints, and quickly shed the socks, dried out the shoes, put fresh socks on and left the house for work (all in under 2 minutes). Of course, I did forget my lunch in the process.
Moral of the story, if you want an adrenaline rush, run after a garbage truck with snow in your shoes in 6 degree fahrenheit weather at 7:00 in the morning. It's a rush!

Inner Monologue

All day long I have an inner monologue. Sometimes, I'll write down what I'm thinking on little pieces of paper; however, I then forget to transfer all of those scribblings to a more permanent solution: i.e., my journal or this blog. When I'm driving I get "Brilliant" ideas but then when I get anywhere to write them down...they are gone. So, I started carrying a digital recorder. Ironically, they've stopped!

Selling the house...oh so much fun

I woke up this morning w/ this on my mind...I was called by our real estate office at 9:10 in the AM on Saturday for a realtor that wanted to get in to see the house that morning. I am usually awake by that time; however, having a poor night's sleep, I took some melatonin and was still in a sleep stupor when I was awakened by the vibration of my cell phone on the nightstand. I called the company back and being that we had a showing yesterday felt confident that I could have the house in show condition by 10:30 AM. So, I shower, dress and run around the house just doing some last minute tidying.
Fast forward to last night. We heard from our realtor and the other realtor didn't even have a qualified buyer. He just wanted to show his buyer what properties are worth in the area. Our realtor said had he known that's what the other realtor wanted, he would have encouraged him to look at a vacant house.
It's just so much fun...Realtors of the world, this is a hint for your...get a pre-qual letter, give the seller some advance notice, and make sure your buyer actually is interested in the house...Speaking from both sides of the coin, my husband recently exited real estate, thank God, money is coming again, I feel I can very confidently give that sage advice.
All the best...until next time.

New Blog...Under Construction

One might say this blog is under construction and, guess what, one (whoever that is) would be right.
Forgive my dust as I work to complete my little corner of cyberspace.
Everybody has a story to tell. I look at my life, as I'm sure others look at theirs, and see little vignettes of drama, tragedy, humor, love, angst, passion, joy and all of the makings of a best selling novel. There have been times in my recent past that I felt I was acting out a Greek tragedy.
However, as I continue to journey forward...I realize the tragedy has helped to make me a stronger, wiser, and better person.
I've journaled for years and am both horrified and amused as I go back to read my musings. I thought to myself, "How much more cathartic would blogging on the world wide web be?" We'll see.
It's late and I have to hop the train to dream land. I've spent so much time trying to pick out a layout that there is no time to blog. So until tomorrow...I might have something good to say as I see my counselor or therapist...What ever you want to call her. I'm getting my melon examined. Don't knock it until you've tried it...