Musings on Marriage

Tag: Grandpa

The Symphony is Over

Dear Daughters,

The music is over.  Taps has been played, the dirt has been shoveled on the casket, we have all said our goodbyes.  Tears have flowed, hugs given, the scent of fragrant flowers and memories still lingering as we left the cemetery.

Olivia Prieto

Six weeks ago, Grandpa said the same thing he has said numerous times during the last few years:

I’m going downhill like a rocket.

Inevitably the next days he would improve and we would continue on with our song of life.  So it was no surprise when he commented about the rocket again.  The only difference being that this time he didn’t improve.

Hospice came to the house and gave him military honors, Chaplain Dick presenting Grandpa with a certificate thanking him for his service in World War II.  Tawnya, Jean and Dick – all from Hospice – videotaped a Life Review as I asked questions and he willingly told stories.

Grandpa’s heart was tired, it had served him faithfully for 94 years but grew steadily weaker by the day.

My memories of you four girls calling just a few hours before Grandpa died, will forever be in my heart.   We had planned for your singing at 8:30 Monday evening, but I didn’t think he would live that long.  Fifteen minutes later you were on the phone, singing:

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now I’m found,

Was blind but now I see.

How beautiful hearing the melody along with tears and wavering voices for several more verses.  And then, as Grandma would always have it, we just had to modulate to the next step higher.  Whenever Grandma would play hymns on the piano she could never stay in the same key – we always had to go higher and with more intensity.

The last verse was the final anthem he heard in his life here on earth:

When we’ve been there 10,000 years

Bright shining as the sun.

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise

Then when we first began….

Grandpa had not spoken or opened his eyes for over 12 hours, but when he heard your voices his eyes fluttered open momentarily.  He was breathing slowly but steadily.  Two hours later he was gone.

Olivia Prieto

The celebration of life at church was beautiful: 

Amazing Grace

I Can Only Imagine…

Wind Beneath My Wings

I’ll Fly Away

The Dutch song Lang Zal se Leven

And finally,

The Hallelujah Chorus

Every night when Dad and I would come home after a day away, Grandpa would say

I’m glad you’re home Shari.

We would leave a few days a week, leaving Grandpa in the care of friends and helpers.  And every time we would come home his remark was always the same:

Shari, I’m glad you’re home.

And now, after five and a half years of Grandpa saying that to me, I can say to him:

I’m glad you’re home, Dad.

Love, Mom

A Grateful Life

Dear Daughters,

After 94 years Grandpa’s chest is still, his heart no longer beating.  He was sleeping peacefully in his favorite chair, and then he was gone.  The struggle is over, he has met Jesus face to face.

During the previous few days the house has been full of people saying good-bye, recalling stories from the past, memories of his time shared with them, shouldering the pain and sadness of dying with us.  From laughter to tears, to hugs and handshakes, the days have been rich, beautiful, difficult and sad. 

Ginger, the Hospice nurse came and saw some of our family here to visit Grandpa and commented to him,

You are a lucky man to have so many people around you.

Immediately he said,

 I don’t believe in luck.

I am blessed.

He is blessed, we are blessed – by his generosity, kindness and humor.  Every day the nurse would come in and ask, how are you doing, Lou?  And every day, as long as he could speak he would say, I’m great.

This evening it is silent, painfully quiet.  No more breathing treatments, the oxygen machine is still.  Willow, Grandpa’s faithful dog sits quietly beside his friend’s chair wondering what has happened.

A few weeks ago I gave Grandpa a bell he could ring if he needed me.  The bell had a beautiful tone, deep and rich.   The first few times he rang it I felt like coming in the room standing straight and tall saying – just like Lurch from The Addams Family – You rrrang?  But I didn’t, I just asked what he needed. 

He never asked for much, help to get up, a glass of water, reminding me he was ready to go to sleep.

A few mornings ago he woke up agitated, wanting to get out of his bed, yet knowing he was unable to walk anymore we couldn’t let him.  So I started singing hymns to him.  Because of his lifetime of singing plus the tradition of singing a hymn every night after dinner with Dad and I, he knew many of them by memory and started whispering a few of the words as I sang. 

Amazing Grace

In the Garden

The Old Rugged Cross

Great Is Thy Faithfulness

He relaxed, laid back to rest and grew calm.  My mouth got dry but I kept on singing. 

Yesterday morning he was agitated again so Aunt Rhonda and I decided to sing You Are My Sunshine.  Surprisingly, we remembered all three verses so sang with gusto, being quite pleased with ourselves.  But as we were nearing the end of the song Grandpa remarked with a wave of his hand, OK, that’s enough sunshine.  What works one day doesn’t always work the next…

Thank you.  Those precious words were the most consistent and common words I heard from Grandpa.  He was so pleased to be able to die in his own home, surrounded by those he loved and was grateful for all the care he received.  Jolene, Judy, Merilee, Ione, Dotty – all friends and helpers faithfully coming to help for days, months, some for years, have become part of our family. 

From the moment we are born, we are in the process of dying.  We don’t often think about life that way but it’s true.  Some of us live a full life, others don’t.  But we all can make the choice to live our one life well, because even though our bodies are wasting away, our Creator Jesus renews our spirits day by day.

Love, Mom

The First Time

Dear Daughters,

Tonight, for the first time ever, Grandpa needed help to go to bed.  Just a month ago he was able to do the bedtime routine on his own but now he needs an oxygen machine to take his every breath.  Dad and I follow him down the hall, Dad pushing R2D2 and me carrying the tubing.  In the short time of a single day he forgot what to do next in getting ready for sleep.  The familiar words

What do I do next?

What do I do now?

What do I do?

echo back in my mind as Grandma would say the same phrases toward the end of her time here on earth.  The world seems to be a scary and confusing place right now for Grandpa, his words come out in a whisper when I ask him if he needs anything else.  His legs give out, he falls, we help him up – oh how difficult life is for him whose eyes have seen so many sunsets. 

My mind goes back to my young, strong dad – working in the barn, the fields, in his workshop – always working with his hands.  Then I think about my decades older dad when he still worked in his shop, pulled some weeds, drove his Gator around, picked apples, fell in the garden and simply rolled over and stood up again. 

Today Pastor Gary and Arie came to serve communion to Grandpa, Dad, Aunt Rhonda and I.  Gary is so thoughtful, remembering to bring a coffee cup with an attached lid containing grape juice since Grandpa’s tremors prevent him from using a small cup. 

I’m not sure I’ve ever celebrated a more precious communion. Here we were sitting with our Pastor, all of us encouraging, suffering and grieving with Grandpa who is so ready to be with his Savior.

Love, faithfulness, friendship, family and communion – especially near the end of life, there are no greater gifts given than these.

Everything is different now.  After I put him to bed last night I went back to my own bedroom and wept.  Tears of weariness, tears of sadness, of seeing a life slowing down and coming toward a close. 

Hospice is a beautiful group of friends, of people who love and care for Grandpa as much as we do.  They walk through the hard, sad times alongside us with joy.  I am grateful.

We are meant for eternity, and for eternity we shall live.  It’s just that the door to our heavenly place is uncharted territory and difficult to walk through.  But walk we will, and we trust Jesus to bring us all safely home in His time.

Love, Mom

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