My last letter to Grandpa: The story

Not long after my grandmother passed away my grandfather started having numerous health complications.  Several bouts of pneumonia, staph infections (MRSA), etc., made us all worry he might pass soon after her.  However, he managed to pull through and was able to see five and a half more years of life, that included the birth of four new great-grandchildren, his son (my father) being deployed to Africa for a year, and just that many more holidays and other special family times.

About three years ago, however, these health complications became pretty, well, complicated.  He had to have a tracheal tube put in, which required fairly constant and specialized nursing care, so he moved into the nursing home where Grandma had spent her last years while she battled Alzheimer's disease.  I always went to visit Grandpa in the nursing home whenever I made it back to Kansas.  And while he had made a great number of friends from the other nursing care residents and the staff, which he chatted with over meals and bingo, I could tell he spent quite a bit of time in solitude in his room.  Thus, I started trying to write him letters every now and then to update him on things in my life and help keep him company.  In fact, when I was a young child I remember a time that Grandpa had to go in for a heart surgery, and I am pretty sure I wrote him a letter back then to also wish him well and let him know I loved him.  So in some ways, writing letters to Grandpa was my thing.  Granted, I only managed to write about once every few months over these past few years, and once I became pregnant and a mother, the time in between letters grew even farther apart.  Sadly, the last time that I wrote Grandpa a letter was July 2012...one year ago! :(

The last time I got to see my Grandpa was over the Memorial Day weekend, when we went back to Kansas and spent the holiday with my family.   My brother and his family and my sister's kids were there too.  However, Grandpa had an active MRSA infection at that time and was undergoing treatment at the local community hospital, so when we went to visit him you had to gown up from head to toe and children and other immune system vulnerable people (such as my pregnant self) were not advised to go in the room.  Thus, me and my son, along with my brother and his daughter and my sister's kids, had to stand outside his hospital room window and wave in at him.  Thus, I didn't get to really see him nor talk to him.  It made me sad that I couldn't go in and talk to him, and that I knew I probably wouldn't be able to until after I have this baby....which was still several months away.

Unfortunately, a week ago Sunday (July 14, 2013), I got a text message early in the morning from my sister that Grandpa had a very rough night and the hospice nurse had to stay with him all night.  We started Grandpa on hospice within the last month, so I suppose I should have expected that this could happen at any time, but I think I was still holding out hope that he would keep pulling through like he had done in the past so he would be able to meet his newest granddaughter after she was born, just like he was able to meet Evan after he was born (see previous post "Across Four Generations").  Nonetheless, my sister and her kids (who live in Hawaii, but were luckily all in Kansas at that time) and my dad and my aunt all went to the nursing home to visit him.  I think I was still pretty naive about Grandpa's state when I responded to my sister's message asking if she could bring me in on skype with her cell phone so I could say hi to Grandpa while they were visiting, because it turned out Grandpa was not responsive that morning.  I don't know how much time they all spent with him, but I felt terrible that I wasn't able to be there too.  I anxiously awaited word from them on his progress.  They notified me that later in the day, around 5pm or so, he responded to the nurse.  Hopes were up.  Then they notified me a few hours after that, around 8pm or so, that he had passed away 15 minutes before.  My heart sank.  While I did shed some more tears, I think I had already done enough crying for the whole day earlier in the morning as I beat myself up over not being able to be there to say my goodbyes.  And for not having written him a letter at all this past year.  I just wanted to make sure Grandpa knew how special he was to me.

I immediately started making plans (and rearranging plans for the week) to come back to Kansas for the funeral.  We had just returned from our week away in Breckenridge, so it was a quick turnaround to get back in the car for the long drive.  But I'm glad I came back early to be able to spend extra time with all the family before the funeral services later in the week.  Plus, it gave me the chance to actually be a part of his funeral service, rather than just attend it, by writing and giving his eulogy.

During those days before the funeral, my aunt was compiling memories of Grandpa from all of us in the family for the minister to read in the service.  Yet, this minister was new and had never met Grandpa!  I couldn't bear the thought of someone who didn't even know Grandpa being the one to tell his stories and recall our memories of him.   So I helped my aunt compile the memories from others in the family and we listened to tapes Grandpa had recorded with details of his childhood and his time in the war to help get the details straight about some of the stories we'd heard Grandpa tell numerous times over the years.

 It was so good to hear his voice on those tapes.  However, the whole time I don't think I really realized he was gone.  For all I knew, he could have still been hanging out in his room at the nursing home.  Perhaps this denial phase of the grief process that I seemed to be in is what helped me keep myself somewhat together during the funeral when I read the eulogy, despite being extra emotional during pregnancy.  Either way, I'm just glad my time in front of the room was over by the time we were at the cemetery where the full military honors burial of his urn took place, because between seeing his urn be lowered into the ground and hearing "Taps" from the bugler, I was quite weepy at that stage.

 The town funeral home that bears his name because his cousin used to run it.

Beautiful resting place right beside my grandmother and his parents. Headstone forthcoming.

The whole service went well and was a very nice tribute to Grandpa.  Besides having one of his grandchildren read his eulogy, it was also a tribute that each and every one of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, some from distant places in the U.S., were in attendance at the funeral.  I thought this was a pretty powerful message of how much we all loved him (although it was challenging with several squirmy two-year-olds in that audience!).  And, in many ways, I've started to view the eulogy that I wrote and delivered at the funeral as my last letter to Grandpa.  Because even though it was after his passing, it really was my way of showing him just how special he was to me.

The flag in the center of town at half mast for my grandfather...a local WWII veteran.