Goodbye

While driving to the hospice today, all I could think of was the time Dan drove me back from grad night and tried to not touch the reflectors on the ground while changing lanes. That was seven years ago. Megan said that when something tragic happens, you remember a random memory, something not connected, as if your mind is trying to break away from the sorrow. I suppose that was it. 

My grandfather had been sick for quite some time now. Two weeks after moving into a retirement home, he was hospitalized. After, he was placed in a nursing home. Then back to the hospital. Then back to the nursing home. And then, finally, the hospice. We all knew what was happening, and we all prepared ourselves, however we didn't want to fully admit it. Today we had to because at 9 a.m. my grandfather passed away. 

I left work early to meet my parents and grandmother at the hospice. Having not lost any immediate family member before, I didn't know what to do. I stood at the end of his bed and listened to my mother talk to him, tell him that I was there. But he wasn't. He was long gone and just a waxy, cold body was left. It was him, but it wasn't. 

It was the scariest and most upsetting thing I've ever seen. 

He had been suffering a lot lately. His alzheimer's was worse than ever; he didn't remember that he had a son. He couldn't walk anymore or communicate, really. His entire body was swollen and he couldn't keep food down. It was time; he's not in pain anymore.

I never had an especially close relationship with my grandfather. He would yell and I would walk away. We never had deep conversation or friendly chats. So when growing accustomed to the fact that he was sick, I was okay. I figured that I would be okay come the day. I wasn't okay. 

It hurt more than I thought and it still does. I know it'll be okay soon, but I'm not sure how to deal with it right now. It feels painful and endless and strange. I'll no longer hear his voice and that's the strangest part. 

Crying while at work, my boss told me to go home.  But I didn't go home. I went to visit my family and didn't hit any reflectors on the way. Because I was determined to see my grandfather one last time, even if he couldn't see me. 

I suppose it is time. And so. William Altman 1922 - 2008.