May your soul find peace in a place without pain

[athene]

My Grandfather (mother's father) died early this morning. He was my last living biological grandparent. He was 92 1/2.

I don't have words to express how I feel. I am sadned by the loss of his life. However, he lived a long life and in the end he was just a shell of a man. I am glad the pain is over and that he is at rest. I am sad that he will not be getting an invitation to the wedding. I know that he couldn't have come, but I wanted to be able to send the invite to him at least. I know he will be with us in spirit.

My grandpa Sam was one of the most gentle, most caring men I ever met. He loved unconditionally, sometimes to the point of worry. I remember he used to hold my hand extra tight whenever we would cross a busy New York street. It took me many years to realize that it was for his own security as well as mine. I remember the last time I saw him. It was just before Thanksgiving in 2003. There was some singer or something at the nursing home he was in. Grandpa always loved music. He had a beautiful voice. I remember that Cimmy and I danced. I think we danced with him. And there was ice cream.

Right now I am mostly worried about msfrizz. I hope that she will be okay. I know that she has the strenght to get through this and she knows that Cimmy and I are there for her. I love you, mom!

Comments

[mortisnightmare.livejournal.com]

I lost my grandfather this summer. My first grandparent to go. My grandmother, his wife, had 2 heart attacks and a stroke in the space of a week when I was five, but she lived through it. Since then, she more or less lived because of him and he lived for her. He went first, mostly because he had a heartattack but there was no pain so he refused the tests to see if he needed help until it was too late. They did the surgery even though there was very little chance he would survive it. I wish they hadn't. He never woke up, although he lived four days after it. Eventually, they were pretty sure he never would, so they OD'd him on morphine to stop his breathing. But he was a very stubborn man and he was still fighting. Why else would he have been alive four days after surgery from which he should have woken up from right away or not at all? Personally, I think they should have given him as long as he needed and let him die or not on his own. Or at least checked for brain activity and taken the life-support when that was gone. I had no say in the decision.

I didn't know him that well. I wish I had. People described him in a lot of ways, most of them as very kind. "He was the kind of man who would give you the shirt of his back if he thought you were cold. You didn't even have to ask." That was something that was said of him at his funeral. But he was never good with kids. He and my grandmother were the type of people who shouldn't really have been parents, but back then you just didn't do that. And I'm grateful they did have two sons. But they never knew how to talk to me. They lived a few blocks from my uncle and his family and two hours from us and wouldn't drive after dark. When I was fifteen, my uncle moved to Las Vegas. To be 'closer' to us, they moved to a condo by the shore. But it was 2 hours away, only about 30 minutes closer than their old place on Long Island. They sort of expected we would be out there every weekened. But my sister was 19 and in college and I was 15. I didn't want parents, let alone grandparents. So I missed my chance. And I wish I hadn't.

But what I've learned since then, in learning slowly to cope with loss, something I've never had to do before, is that you have to cherish the good memories. Don't think about things like the fact that he wasn't all there before he went. Although because of that, you can be grateful it's over. But don't focus on that. Focus on the man he was when you were young and he was there. That's the part that you want to remain part of you. And if you focus too much on the bad, slowly, the good stuff starts to fade. I've lost more of my grandfather than I wanted to because I was focusing on things like the fact that he was still fighting and they killed him. I don't want that memory. I want to remember the way he'd tease me for answering them in monosylabic words when I talked to him and my grandmother on the phone. Or the smile on his face when he realized I painted and would use the paint sets he no longer had a use for. Those are the memories I want. So I have to hold on to them, or all I will remember is how he died. What you focus on is what you keep, most of the rest just fades away.

Ok, enough rambling. *hugs* I'm sorry, sweetie. If you need me, I'm here. We can hug or cry or get ice cream if you want.