This is not going to be a particularly happy blog entry.
    As you can tell from the title, I just lost Grandpa to wherever one's spirit goes on the other side. I knew that he was going soon. I mean, he had terminal prostate cancer. It was only a matter of months. I thought that I was prepared for what was going to happen.
    How stupid of me.
    It happened Tuesday morning at around 2:30 AM. He had just moved into the care home when he complained of chills to the hospice (the nursing home people) and then started freaking out because he couldn't breathe. The hospice came in to give him so medication and he didn't have a pulse. It all happened so suddenly. 
    It was honestly a matter fo 72 hours. 3 days ago, he was well enough to shop at Costco and use the cart as a walker. That day, he was so sick that he couldn't support his own weight. He spiraled downhill so fast that there was nothing to catch him but death. 
    I can't really explain how I feel right now. When I first heard, I started crying and then a few minutes late the tears turned to hysterical sobbing and screaming. Then, I calmed down. It was like an ice pack was thrown into my insides. I still feel that way. Numb and unresponsive to the event. I can't emotionally process what's going on right now, I guess. 
    How can one person be there one day and gone the next? How can I have so many years ahead of me and he only had a matter of weeks? How can that happen? How does the clock for someone just...stop? I can't imagine him gone. It's just not possible that the Grandfather who loved his cats, went fishing, and loved Costco could be gone to the sky.
    I don't want him to be up there, though. I want him to be down here with the family. That's where he belongs. With us. Life is so so precious. I know that it's supposed to end. It always ends. The clock of life never stops for anyone. It just feels so unfair, though. 
    We humans are so selfsih. Here I am, moaning about wanting Grandpa to be with me, when really I should be happy that he's in a better place. I should be happy that he's young and free and painless, and all I want is for him to come back. How awful of me. 
    Moving on.
    The funeral is next Friday. I'm a little terrified of funerals. I think of black and mourning and sobbing and frankly I want to keep that stuff out of my mind. I don't want to see the coffin that Grandpa will be in. I have never imagined him in a coffin. I don't want a thought that hasn't even treaded my nightmares to become horrifying reality. 
    I will have the opportunity to recite something at the funeral. At first I thought, "No way! Why the heck would i want to do that? I don't want to be affiliated with that dreaded funeral. Period." And then I got to thinking. This would be the chance for me to say all of the things that I didn't get a chance to say. 
    So I decided to write a poem.
    It's titled, "Grandfather, Grandfather". I can't really explain how I got to writing it. It just came out so...naturally. I am going to present this poem to the funeral, and hopefully it will briefly sum up everything that I feel. Here's the poem:

Grandfather, Grandfather

You're swimming in a starry sea 
No longer are you aged and ill
Your steps are filled iwth youthful glee
A place in our hearts you'll always fill

Grandfather, Grandfather
Watchng from up above
It is I, your grieving granddaughter
Please know that you're always loved

You're know to Rocky and I as Grandpa
A title you will alway skeep
You taught me to fight with a firmly set jaw
It is in my hopes I'll see you again in my sleep

Grandfather, Grandfather
Watching from up above
It is I, your grieving granddaughter
Please know that you're always loved

Oh, Grandpa, why did you have to go?
It hurts so much now that you're gone
Grandpa, know that I miss you so
But it's your undying love that keeps me marching on

Grandfather, Grandfather
Watching from up above
It is , your grieving Granddaughter
Please know that you're always loved.

    And there it is. The poem I am going to read at the funeral. I'll update you on how that goes....oh, God, why did this have to happen? It's the worst thing, this whole grief business. But I have to keep marching on. That's the one thing left to do is to keep marching on.                   

UPDATE: The funeral was sad. I cried. I couldn't read my poem. Apparently the funeral home is really booked and I would have backed the whole system up...


Leave a Reply.