Cathryn (formerly catslash) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
remindmeofthe) wrote2007-08-06 11:14 pm
remindmeofthe) wrote2007-08-06 11:14 pm
(no subject)
I don't really want to post about this, but if I keep putting it off I'm just going to feel silly when I do bring it up.
So. My grandfather died yesterday.
This is not, all in all, a bad thing. He had emphysema, which took years in killing him slowly, whittling his strong body down to skin and bones as it worked harder and harder just to breathe. When I was a child, he would hug us grandchildren so hard that it hurt; a year and a half ago, when I stayed with my grandparents after having my wisdom teeth out, I watched as it took him an hour to get from the couch to his bedroom upstairs. Stubborn man that he was, he held on much longer than we all expected him to. He was always very independent (I offered once, during that stay, to make him some toast, a task which would have taken me five minutes, but he preferred to take the half hour to do it for himself while he still could), and having to rely on my grandmother to do simple things for him as his body withered away and lost the ability to keep up with his mind was painful and degrading for him.
But - he was my grandfather. And in these past couple of years, I discovered how well we clicked. He was stiff and austere and very awkward about emotional matters, and the stories I heard from my mother about his less-than-nurturing parenting style were, I suppose, subtly discouraging, but he and I? We understood each other. We shared awkwardness and a dry sense of humor and an interest in history - I must be the only grandchild who sat and listened when he talked about the history of our home area and his time in the military. He tried hard to teach me how to have a backbone and financial sense. He was proud fit to burst when I finally went to college three years after graduating from high school. He gave me money rather than have me sign up for student loans to help with my rent when things got tight because I was focusing on school rather than try to work full-time, with the understanding that I have to pay it back only if I fail at trying for my education. He told me that I will be the first in the family to get a four-year degree. I live not far from them - or from Grandma, now - and while I didn't visit as often as I could have, I still tried to visit relatively regularly. One of the last times I went, Grandpa told me that I was the only grandchild who came to see them on anything approaching a regular basis - of the five grandchildren they have in the state, four of us are adults, I am the only adult grandchild who does not drive and had to rely on Grandma for rides when I went to see them, and I still saw them far more than the others did - and that he was glad that one of us, at least, came out to see them. This is probably - no, certainly the most sentimental thing he ever said to me. He never told me in so many words that he loved me, but with his actions, and his praise for returning to school and working hard at it to better myself and my circumstances, he told me all the time.
I loved him very much, and for some time now I have quietly hoped that he would escape from the misery that his life became with a peaceful death. That is exactly what happened. He died in the hospital, made comfortable with plenty of morphine by an attentive staff so that he was completely out of it and unable to feel it as his body stopped processing oxygen and finally gave up. Everyone in the family who could go was there on Saturday when it became clear that he wasn't going to make it, sitting together for hours as we waited for his last breath, sometimes talking and laughing, sometimes crying. I had work yesterday, and while I made certain to visit before I went, go I did - he would have been furious if I gave up money I need to sit and do nothing as he lay there, oblivious to us all. My mother called me about twenty minutes after his death, and I sat out back and cried for a little while, because it was long since time for him to go, but he was my grandfather and I loved him.
I may make another post later, about what it's like to sit in a hospital waiting for a sick man to die, about how I worry about Grandma, alone for the first time since she was younger than I am, about things that are not new and are no doubt familiar to many on my friendslist, but cannot be understood if you haven't experienced them. I may also post, for my own benefit, about Grandpa and my memories, to pin them down before my treacherous ADD-addled brain lets them become too fuzzy. For now, though, I'm done. I didn't want to make this post, because after I finished crying yesterday, I got up and went back to work and eventually made myself smile, and I've been doing that ever since. I'd rather keep smiling, but I can't, and I knew this post would mark the beginning of allowing myself to grieve. I love you, Grandpa, and I'll keep visiting Grandma, and I'm glad you're not suffering anymore, and I'll miss you.
So. My grandfather died yesterday.
This is not, all in all, a bad thing. He had emphysema, which took years in killing him slowly, whittling his strong body down to skin and bones as it worked harder and harder just to breathe. When I was a child, he would hug us grandchildren so hard that it hurt; a year and a half ago, when I stayed with my grandparents after having my wisdom teeth out, I watched as it took him an hour to get from the couch to his bedroom upstairs. Stubborn man that he was, he held on much longer than we all expected him to. He was always very independent (I offered once, during that stay, to make him some toast, a task which would have taken me five minutes, but he preferred to take the half hour to do it for himself while he still could), and having to rely on my grandmother to do simple things for him as his body withered away and lost the ability to keep up with his mind was painful and degrading for him.
But - he was my grandfather. And in these past couple of years, I discovered how well we clicked. He was stiff and austere and very awkward about emotional matters, and the stories I heard from my mother about his less-than-nurturing parenting style were, I suppose, subtly discouraging, but he and I? We understood each other. We shared awkwardness and a dry sense of humor and an interest in history - I must be the only grandchild who sat and listened when he talked about the history of our home area and his time in the military. He tried hard to teach me how to have a backbone and financial sense. He was proud fit to burst when I finally went to college three years after graduating from high school. He gave me money rather than have me sign up for student loans to help with my rent when things got tight because I was focusing on school rather than try to work full-time, with the understanding that I have to pay it back only if I fail at trying for my education. He told me that I will be the first in the family to get a four-year degree. I live not far from them - or from Grandma, now - and while I didn't visit as often as I could have, I still tried to visit relatively regularly. One of the last times I went, Grandpa told me that I was the only grandchild who came to see them on anything approaching a regular basis - of the five grandchildren they have in the state, four of us are adults, I am the only adult grandchild who does not drive and had to rely on Grandma for rides when I went to see them, and I still saw them far more than the others did - and that he was glad that one of us, at least, came out to see them. This is probably - no, certainly the most sentimental thing he ever said to me. He never told me in so many words that he loved me, but with his actions, and his praise for returning to school and working hard at it to better myself and my circumstances, he told me all the time.
I loved him very much, and for some time now I have quietly hoped that he would escape from the misery that his life became with a peaceful death. That is exactly what happened. He died in the hospital, made comfortable with plenty of morphine by an attentive staff so that he was completely out of it and unable to feel it as his body stopped processing oxygen and finally gave up. Everyone in the family who could go was there on Saturday when it became clear that he wasn't going to make it, sitting together for hours as we waited for his last breath, sometimes talking and laughing, sometimes crying. I had work yesterday, and while I made certain to visit before I went, go I did - he would have been furious if I gave up money I need to sit and do nothing as he lay there, oblivious to us all. My mother called me about twenty minutes after his death, and I sat out back and cried for a little while, because it was long since time for him to go, but he was my grandfather and I loved him.
I may make another post later, about what it's like to sit in a hospital waiting for a sick man to die, about how I worry about Grandma, alone for the first time since she was younger than I am, about things that are not new and are no doubt familiar to many on my friendslist, but cannot be understood if you haven't experienced them. I may also post, for my own benefit, about Grandpa and my memories, to pin them down before my treacherous ADD-addled brain lets them become too fuzzy. For now, though, I'm done. I didn't want to make this post, because after I finished crying yesterday, I got up and went back to work and eventually made myself smile, and I've been doing that ever since. I'd rather keep smiling, but I can't, and I knew this post would mark the beginning of allowing myself to grieve. I love you, Grandpa, and I'll keep visiting Grandma, and I'm glad you're not suffering anymore, and I'll miss you.
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I'll just say that I think your impulse to write things down is a good one. Writing things down won't lessen them, but you are, after all, a writer, and that may in the end be the best way: put things down in type, marshall your thoughts and emotions, and in doing so come to terms with them.
E-hugs are not particularly useful, but e-hugs nonetheless. Big ones.
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*hugs*
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Write every memory down....it'll help you grieve and you'll always remember. When you have a horrible day you'll have the good memories to go back and read and maybe it'll make the day better.
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Having lost three of my four grandparents, I understand the worry about grandma being alone...my grandfathers both pre-deceased my grandmothers by several years. I went over one morning to find her on the porch, eating breakfast in the sun and crying. And I also know about waiting for a sick man to die. It's terrible, long and painful.
Thank you for posting this. I'm sure it must have been hard, but it's a great testament to someone who you loved so much.
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I've been there, man. If you need anyone to talk to or talk through or whatever, you know I'm here for you.
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I'm so sorry to hear this and then again not sorry at all. I didn't know your grandfather very well but I liked him. You were there for me last year when I lost gram and that helped me more than you will ever know. If you someone to just vent to or if you're in the mood for my random and insane babble you can call me up here at mum's until Thursday night. 564-6949.
Tell everyone hello for me and send my love. I'm attempting to plan a few days down to dad's so we're most definitely going to have to hook up. Maybe I'll get down before the season's over and we can catch a Dog's game. We'll do some heckling and maybe it won't downpour this time.
I love ya and I hope you're doing better. You should call me. Maybe I'll try and give you a ring once I find out what mum's long distance plan is. <33 I'll catch you at some point, I'm sure.
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My deepest sympathies on your loss, Cathryn. Your eulogy of your grandfather is a wonderful tribute to a man you obviously care very much about and will miss.
A peaceful (my grandmother called it "happy") death is always a good thing. My grandma and my father were lucky enough to also have a similar passing.
I know there's probably not much I can do but if I can be of any help at all, please don't hesitate to seek me out. *hugs*