I wanted to write out my feelings about my Grandpa's death (or as we say it "Grampa". So, that's how I spell it.) :) On Thursday, October 11th, my Gramma and Grampa came over to my parents house to tell us how my Grampa's doctors appointment went. For those of you who don't know, he had been in pain from bone cancer for the past couple of months. He had been through multiple rounds of radiation, and was still feeling pain. He said the doctor told him he could do chemo, but it would do nothing. So, his doctor told him he would be coming in to see him in January for a check up, and unfortunately, he would have to deal with the pain. We told him we were going to be leaving for China on the 16th, the next Tuesday. We all planned to meet for dinner the night before. I hugged him goodbye, and told him I loved him, and would see him and my Gramma on Monday night.
He sounded positive about it, but there was some sort of non-verbal communication that he wasn't doing so well. And I could tell he was being positive for me. The next day I told Stan I was afraid my Grampa was going to die when we were in China. It didn't sadden me about his death. He's a Christian, and the death is a celebration for him. The part that made me sad was it taking a long, painful time for him to die, me not being in America, and my Gramma being without her help mate.
Saturday night, the 13th, Stan and I and his parents had just ordered dinner at a restaurant in Gallatin, TN (1 hour from Bowling Green). Stan got a phone call from my mom. He said to my mom, "Oh, she must have her phone on silent." and handed me the phone. My mom told me that Gramma had tried to get Grampa to get out of the bathtub, but he wasn't responding. And that he had been having a stroke. So they were waiting at the hospital in Bowling Green right then. I asked if I needed to come, and she said I could if I wanted to, but she would call back in a little bit with details. I wasn't too upset right then, because the first thought that popped into my head was relief for Grampa, and his pain. I hung up the phone and explained the situation to Stan and his parents. Stan asked if we wanted to take our food to go. I said, "No, it's fine. My mom's gonna call back in a bit." I felt like I would throw up if I made any sudden movements, so I didn't exactly want to jump up and do anything. I hadn't decided if I should go yet, because I didn't know if I wanted to deal with that process. Part of me wanted to only hear the news.
After we finished eating (I barely ate half of my food), we finally decided to go to Bowling Green. As we were leaving the restaurant, I called my mom and she told me it was pretty bad. She told me my Grampa had had a massive stroke that would be difficult to recover from. She said they were life flighting him to Skyline Medical Center in Nashville, TN. So, instead of going to Bowling Green, we went to Nashville.
We got to the hospital, and waited in the waiting area for a long time. We finally were able to go back and talk to the doctor. My dad had told us basically the same thing the doctor said; that this was something they would not be operating on because the stroke was so massive, his quality of life would be next to nothing after the surgery. He was basically being kept alive by a breathing tube. We went into the room to see my Grampa. But it wasn't him. He was not conscious, and obviously not being himself. He was literally on his death bed, and we all knew it right then. My dad was the only child of Grama and Grampa's that was at the hospital at this point. So we waited for other relatives to get there. It was Sunday morning by the time all the relatives were there who could come.
At one point while we were at the hospital, Stan and I went out to our car to get some waters, and i told him, "I don't want to do this." I know about the grieving process. I know it has to happen. And i know everyone grieves in their own way. I know all that, but any time I have to endure anything horrible, I envision myself in the future, having moved past this. Happier, safer, stronger, at peace. And that's what I was doing when I said, "I don't want to do this." to Stan. I just wanted to fast forward, not skip it, just fast forward time to feeling more peace.
Half way through the night, me and Stan went to his parents house to sleep a little. Everything I did, I looked at Stan and told him how I felt and what I wanted to do. I told him all I wanted to do was sleep, a lot. I wanted to curl up in a bed and sleep, and sleep, and sleep. He made sure I knew that there was a possibility that my Grampa could pass in the night while we were asleep. I told him that was okay with me. Other members of my family didn't want to leave because of this, but I just had to get away, and sleep. I was already sad, and adding sleep deprivation to that, was not going to be good. I felt like I might not be able to handle it, if I didn't sleep. The depressed feeling was calling me to a bed. If I couldn't fast forward time, I could at least sleep.
We got back to the hospital the next morning around the same time the other relatives got there. The timing is a blur, but we all gathered around my Grampa, said a prayer and then we stood in silence. I started feeling a little faint, looking at Grampa. I knew the doctors said he couldn't feel any pain, but he wasn't himself and he looked like he was in pain. I couldn't watch him, and at the same time, understand that he wasn't in pain. I couldn't see it; I couldn't look at him that way and I just felt like I was going to faint, so I told Stan I needed to leave. That's the last time I saw my Grampa's body, right after we prayed with the whole family. I kept putting those memories out of my mind. Pushing those away, because that wasn't him. He wasn't in pain.
Part of me wanted to keep it out of sight out of mind, because I didn't want to remember him like that. So I waited out in the waiting room. But then I would think, "No, I should go in there. This is selfish to be out here when every one else is in there." Then I would ask Stan, "Is this really ok that I'm out here? I just don't think I can be in there now or when he dies. I just don't think I can do it." He reassured me that any way I wanted to do this, was ok. He made sure I wouldn't regret not being in there with him in the future. I knew I wouldn't. I just kept thinking, "He's half way to heaven now. And I don't want to see him like that because I can't handle it. It won't help me get over his death. I know I'll have those memories of him in that bed, and I don't want that. Some people need that, but I don't even want it." I am so thankful Stan was with me, because the rest of my family needed to be in there. I was with Stan when his Grandmother died last December, and I thought to myself, "I don't want to think about my grandparents dying. I don't think I'm going to handle it very well at all." Stan being there helped me so much.
The doctor came in at 10:40 AM on Sunday and removed the breathing tube as the family had decided to let happen once all of the family members were present. At around 3:30, I started to think about him struggling to breathe, so I asked God to take him quickly because I just couldn't even think about him struggling at all. The doctors were saying he couldn't feel anything, but I couldn't think about him not being able to breathe, so I said the prayer over and over. I prayed for God to make it happen very soon, because I knew Grampa was almost with Him. And we had all said our good byes. Part way through the day on Sunday, Elise came out and sat with us. We were getting updates from my mom who was in the room with the family. At around 3:40 PM, 10 minutes after I had prayed for God to take him quickly, I got a text that said he was stopping breathing. And at 3:50 my mom came out and told us he had passed. I thanked God, and cried. The rest of the family spilled out into the waiting room and we hugged and cried.
I feel like I said goodbye to him the day before we left Bowling Green on that Thursday. I feel closure because he will always be my Grampa and I will always miss him. But I am so truly happy he is not in pain any more. The times I start to cry is when I think about my Gramma not having her help mate anymore. It makes me so sad for her. But I feel like God gave us all a gift of preparation. We were all fearful this cancer would take his life, and I had a couple months to say good bye, in a sense. In the last couple months of my Grampa's life, he learned to text. He would send us grandkids text messages. Just cute little messages here and there. And I would send him random ones during the day. I will save those forever. I had months to say good bye, and I'm so thankful I had that time in America to do that. I was saying goodbye to him because I thought the cancer would eat away at him slowly, but it was a painless stroke that took him. I thank God for that. I thank God for the time I had with my Grampa. I thank God for the memories. I will always be his Julie-Bug. :) I'll remember him as he wants to be remembered. I will miss him, but I know he's in heaven waiting for the rest of us to get there.
