Papa

Life has been a killer lately. My grandpa is dying. He goes on hospice tomorrow. People who go on hospice usually die within 6 months. On the days that I am not in school, I go to his house at 8 in the morning and spoon feed him breakfast. Then I stay there with him, listening to make sure that he isn't coughing too hard, or choking on his own saliva. He sleeps alot, and even when he's awake, he stares off into space. When I'm there though, I sit in front of him, and he makes eye contact with me. He can't really speak much anymore. When I ask him a question, I have to say, "Say yes or no." And then he will respond. It takes a few seconds though. Sometimes the right words don't come out. The other day I asked him if he wanted his covers pulled up, and he pondered for a moment, and then said, "Five bucks an hour." I pulled the covers up anyways, and smiled.
A few days ago Papa went into the hospital with pneumonia. We didn't even know that he had it, he was brought to the hospital because he was dehydrated. Today I went to spend some time with him. It was just me and him. He held my hand while I told him about the homework I was doing, and that I was going camping. I asked him if he had ever been camping. He said no. I asked him if he had ever been in a tent, and he mustered up enough energy to say, "in the service." It was impressive because at this point its hard to tell what he remembers. I started to run out of things to tell him. But then I looked at him and looked at those familiar bushy eyebrows and smiled. I said, "You know Papa, I remember when you let me cut your eyebrows. I didn't do a very good job. But they grew back." He squeezed my hand and smiled and started to laugh a little bit. And then he continued to squeeze my hand and stare at me for a while longer. I started tearing up. So I had to look down. Then I said, "Well Papa, it's after 9, I should go home now so you can get some sleep." But he continued to hold my hand and wouldn't let go. He put his other hand on top of the hand he was already holding, and he continued to stare at me. And I stared right back, not knowing what to say. Trying to not think the thoughts that were going through my mind. Thoughts like, "What if this is the last time I see him?" or "What if he dies tonight after I leave? He will have died with nobody by his side." Then I started to think of the thoughts that were going through his head. And I started to think of how scary it must be to know that you will die soon. And to know that you're leaving your family. I believe in the Christian idea of heaven. And I believe that my grandpa will be there someday...soon. He will join my grandma who has been there for 10 years now. He asks about her sometimes. He forgets that she is gone. But it always comes back to him. And that must be hard.
After a while I knew I had to head for home, and so I made him let go of my hand so that I could give him a hug. He wrapped his arms around my neck and squeezed, letting out a healthy grunt. And with that I had to turn away and get my things. I was crying visibly by then. But I had to turn and say goodbye. I don't know if Papa could see the tears, I tried to not let him hear it in my voice. I hope he didn't. I want to be strong for him.But maybe if you cry a little, it shows them how much you love them. And how much they will be missed. When I got out of the room, I couldn't hold them back any longer. I walked out of the hospital looking down, including when I entered the elevator with five other people. Have you ever noticed how people look when they cry? Your face scrunches up, and it looks like you have a scary smile.

My grandpa has adored me since the day I was born. I can see it in his eyes and his smile when he sees me. Why else would you let your granddaughter cut off your eyebrows and your sideburns? And now when he is so close to the end of his life on earth, the love is pouring out of him...it makes it harder to say goodbye.

When I tell my friends about Papa being in the process of dying, they get a frown, and say, "Oh, I'm sorry." And it doesn't seem like enough. And then I have to step back, and realize that most people don't have as close of a relationship to their grandparents, as I have had with mine. For over half my life, Papa saw me every day of the week. In the third grade when I lost my favorite purple scarf, he drove me all the way to the bus company to search the bus I rode. He was always playing the crane game at the grocery store to win me a stuffed animal. When I got older we took trips together. And then I have friends who say, "Wouldn't he be better in a home?" And I say to them, "My grandpa didn't work 3 jobs his whole life to be put in a home." I have some friends who understand, and who I can tell have had similar relationships with their grandparents. My friend Chris talks about his grandpa and his old boat, and I know he misses him because he talks about him like he was gone not that long ago, but its been a while now. And my friend Dan has a tattoo of him and his grandpa on his back, and has created artwork in class about his grandpa taking him fishing. My friend Jolie calls her grandpa everyday to remind him to take his medication. My friend Julie lived with her grandma for a whole summer to help keep an eye on her after a surgery. These are the families I can relate to. The families who put their life on hold for the people who got them there in the first place.
Papa is my last grandparent. And since the other three left a while ago, I have grown very close to him. I always knew that losing him would be hard. And the time is now I guess...in the middle of a life that I was already struggling with.
It's amazing how I've realized that the drama that I create in my own life, all seems so unimportant when I realize that I'm losing someone who I hold so dear. And its not just me. My whole family is going through this. Even my brother takes two days a week to go and feed Papa. It makes me proud to be his sister.

Comic relief has always been a necessity in my family so I will end with this. It is a song my grandpa taught me when I was about ten years old.

"I like to go swimmin with bow legged women and swim between their legs. And when I go under it sounds like thunder and smelled like rotten eggs." :)