Processing

I've been at a loss for written words the last few days, because I am completely spent, emotionally and physically.  I am just plain exhausted and having a really hard time moving on from here.  I know I need to though; my children remind me of that.  The first step, I guess, is to write it all out and sort through all the emotions.  So, bear with me...because this post is not going to be fun...and it might be slightly scattered, but it's something I need to write as I work through the process of grieving.

On Monday, March 29th, my sister called me to tell me Grandpa was taken to the hospital by ambulance.  He had fallen and my Grandma was beside herself.  He was so weak and she didn't have the strength to pick him up on her own.  He had fallen a few weeks before, because he was very unsteady and weak.  He had some bleeding on his brain then, but the biggest concern was getting his legs to heal.  He had a skin disease where his skin bruised easily and didn't heal very well.  He had fallen on his knees, so they were pretty banged up already.  This time, though, the doctor's also realized he had pneumonia. 

A year ago, he actually stopped breathing while in the ICU for pneumonia, but he pulled through and we were blessed with one more year with him.  The weekend before March 29th, Grandpa had called each of his children individually to tell them goodbye.  He started telling us he was dying, but we just told him he was tired and needed to rest and allow his body to heal from the first fall.  Somehow, though, he knew his body was failing him.

My parents were out of town on college visits with my youngest brother, so my mom's brother, James, and his wife, Michelle, went right to the hospital to be with my grandparents.  On Tuesday, he was still stable enough that he was in a regular room.  In the afternoon, my dad called me to say they were having trouble waking him up from a nap.  He told me not to be too worried yet, but to start praying.  They were eventually able to wake him and did several brain scans to make sure there was nothing else to be concerned about.  They decided he was just plain exhausted and needed sleep to let his body heal. 

Ted and I decided we would visit on Wednesday afternoon, so we made plans for him to work in the morning and pick us up at lunch.  We called my aunt Michelle to tell her we were on the way and she said he was doing fine, but was very tired.  When we arrived, there were several doctors walking in and out of his room, so we went to the waiting room until my aunt Michelle came to get us.  She told us they were concerned about his breathing, because it was very shallow while he was sleeping. 

We walked into his room and noticed he was drifting in and out of sleep.  He looked up and smiled when he saw us and was especially happy to see our children, but fell asleep almost in mid sentence.  Michelle stepped out into the hallway and Ted and I decided to pray for Grandpa while he slept.  Almost immediately after we finished praying, the doctor came in to tell us they were moving him to the ICU.  They were concerned about his breathing and his oxygen levels and wanted to keep a closer eye on him.  We called my Grandma and my mom.  My uncle Tom was staying with my Grandma, so he immediately brought her back to the hospital.  We had to wait in the ICU waiting room while they moved Grandpa.  Grandma was so disappointed and told me, "Just when we think things are going well..."  My mom arrived and we all waited to be able to see Grandpa again. 

Ted and I returned to my parents' house with my brother, Dan, and cousin, Kisha, so our kids could get a nap.  Not too long after we arrived, my dad called to tell me we should probably start calling people.  He said Grandpa was very tired and sick of fighting.  My Grandma and my mom were having a really hard time.  We started to call a few people and then my dad called us back to tell us to come right away.  I think that was the first moment I realized he was dying, but I still had a hard time accepting it.  

Ted and I went to visit Grandpa in the ICU.  He reminded me of how my aunt Carlyne looked the last time I saw her.  He was wearing the same kind of oxygen mask she had on, which forced the air in to help him breathe.  He was so pale and frail and his breathing was shallow and painful to watch.  He did wake up a little, turned toward me, asked for a hug, and told me he loved me.   It was hard to leave that night, but we knew he was in good hands and we needed to get some rest before the next day. 

On Thursday morning, my mom told me the night had been uneventful and we could be hopeful for a new day.  My cousin, Sparrow, decided to fly in from Washington, because she knew that, even if this wasn't the end, she didn't want to regret not having the chance to say goodbye.  I hadn't seen her in five years, so the kids and I packed up to spend the day with her.  Ted decided to go to work for the day, but joined us in the evening. 

Our hopes were crushed later in the day when we realized Grandpa had fluid in his lungs in addition to the pneumonia.  The doctors told us he was very fragile and any little thing would become a big thing.  More relatives decided to come, because we all began to realize just how serious this was. 

On Friday, Ted had the day off, but we decided to have a quiet morning with the kids before heading back to the hospital.  The day was really rough for Grandpa.  His platelet count started to drop dramatically and he really wasn't getting any stronger.  My cousin Josh decided to fly in from Maine, and most of my cousins and all but two of my uncles had already arrived.  That night, we all crowded in the ICU waiting room and took turns being with Grandpa.  We were comforted to be surrounded by family, but the tension was obvious...Grandpa was dying but nobody wanted to admit it out loud.

Ted and I returned home again for the night.  My mom and her cousin's wife, Mary Jo, decided to spend the night in the ICU waiting room so my Grandma could go back to the house and get some rest.  She couldn't sleep, though, so my uncles brought her back.  Grandpa woke up during the night and was more alert, so they gathered around his bedside. 

On Saturday, we decided to have our Easter celebration meal at noon, since everyone was already there.  My dad's sister, Sheri, and her husband, Rick, offered to make food for us, which was a huge blessing, because we were all so overwhelmed.  (I don't think I can possibly thank you both enough - your kindness and service to us was exactly what we needed right at that moment.)  On the way to the hospital, we stopped at the bike shop on the way so Ted could pick up his new road bike and, while I waited in the van with the kids, my sister, Kelly, called me and said, "He's dying, Steph...you really need to come now if you want to see him."  I will never forget her words, because it was the first time I heard those words out loud...and the first time I really accepted the fact that he was dying.  Ted and I hurried to the hospital and I broke down in tears on the way.  When we arrived, he had perked up a little.  He recognized us again and told me he loved me.  I kissed him and held his hand for a while.  Then, we returned to my Grandma's house where everyone was gathered for lunch. 

My Grandpa's brother, John, said the prayer before the meal...and I almost broke down, because it was something my Grandpa has always done.  My Grandma and my mom barely left the hospital that day, except to come back for a nap and some food before heading right back.  We all took turns visiting throughout the day.  My uncle Gerry had finally arrived with his family after driving over 20 hours from the east coast for their spring break vacation and my uncle Larry was due to arrive that night.  As they waited for Larry's arrival, my mom and her brothers began to make plans for hospice care at home.  We realized Grandpa wasn't going to get better and he wanted to be back home with his family to spend his last days surrounded by the ones he loved. 

We all prepared my grandparents' home for Grandpa's arrival and, shortly after Larry arrived, Grandpa was home.  That night, I had the hardest time leaving, because I knew the end was near.  I didn't want to leave, because I was afraid it was the last time I would see him.  I held his hand, kissed him, and told him I loved him.  I said I'd be back the next day, but I didn't know if he would still be with us. 

On Sunday morning, I called my mom the moment I woke up.  I was afraid she would tell me he was already gone, but he wasn't.  He was still very weak though and getting weaker.  She told me to go to church, because, even if he died that morning, I had already had many opportunities to say goodbye.  We got ready for church, but I was almost in tears all morning.  I was heartbroken and didn't know how I could possibly be joyful on Easter morning.  But God has given me every reason to be joyful in His salvation.  Still, it was very hard to go to church.  I cried through Sunday School and avoided talking to people, because I knew I would only break down more.  I somehow made it through church service without crying, but I don't remember a word that was said in the sermon. 

That afternoon, Grandpa's breathing got worse; there were long breaks between each breath and we thought he was leaving us then.  So, we all gathered around his bedside - almost 40 of us - and began to sing to him.  We told him how much we loved him and reassured him we would take care of Grandma.  I read him a letter that my aunt Stephanie had written, since she wasn't able to make it in time.  We were all in tears, but it was a moment I will never forget. 

He relaxed as we sang to him and was able to be with us a little longer.  We decided to take turns saying goodbye to him, so, one by one, each family went into his room with my Grandma and spent time saying goodbye.  It was a bittersweet time, because I was so thankful. to have the chance to say goodbye but so sad that I was losing him. 

That night, when we left, I knew I would never see him again.  I cried on the way to our house and cried myself to sleep.  The next morning, on April 5th, my sister called to tell me he had passed away.  When I arrived that day, he was still in the room, even though he was already gone.  My Grandma refused to leave his side, even though he was gone already.  She continued talking to him and holding his hand.  I walked past the room a few times and was afraid to look in the room and see his lifeless body.  I'm glad I finally did though, because he looked better than he had all week.  I'm glad I can have that picture in my mind instead of images of him dying. 

I am so, so thankful for my family.  They have all pulled together in a difficult situation and helped to hold each other up.  It has been such a blessing to be surrounded by family and to see how truly strong we are.  I love you all...so, so much.  

And, of course, thank you all for all your prayers and encouragement at this time.  Whatever strength we have had these past two week has been because of Him and all the prayers that have covered us.