To the Heart of the Matter: Grandpa

Some of you may have noticed my random quick visit home in the middle of the week in the middle of October. No, it was not planned. But this sort of thing never is…

I was sitting on my couch. Still in my scrubs, I had just devoured two bowls of cereal while finishing up season one of Downton Abby for a second time. Across my little living room, I heard my phone vibrating on the counter in the kitchen. Caller ID said it was mom but it was not out of the ordinary for her to call in the morning knowing chances are I’m still awake. This morning’s phone call, however, was not one either of us wanted to do.

While I was home in August, I went as many times as I had opportunities to visit with my grandfather. In fact, the very day after I arrived into town I went with my aunt and uncle who were on their way over just as soon as I picked Hannah up from their house. Grandpa was very surprised to see me. He asked how Georgia was treating me, how my job was, even remembered I had gotten a new “set of wheels” as he referred to it. As advanced as his dementia was, he still held onto the lives of his grandchildren like iron clad and I always knew how very proud he was of each of us. He used to point at me to passer-byers and say, “She’s my nurse!” He always greeted my mom, aunt, and late grandma with, “Hiya toots! How’s my girl?” And he always had some off the wall or off-colored story to tell usually from his Navy days.

What was especially heartbreaking were the last few days I had visited him and while in a lucid moment he would ask mom, “take me outta here.” He was not happy, he was suffering. And in His mercy one early Sunday morning, God quickly and gracefully called grandpa home during his sleep.

I can’t help but recognize God’s wisdom in His timing. For my grandma, we were told 4-7 days when the doctors discovered how advance the leukemia was. God gave us the full 7 days with her to realize, adjust, and prepare. God even called us grandkids to her room the night before she fell unconscious for her final days giving us the opportunity to say our goodbyes’.

For my grandfather, we’ve had months, even years to prepare before he was finally placed in hospice care only 3 days prior to that Sunday morning. Yet still, you never are fully ready for the phone call.

So I was not ready to hear my mom’s shaky voice on the other side, or to feel my heart drop knowing instantly what was about to be said as she simply uttered my name into the receiver.

Almost immediately my mind went to getting myself home. Right after thinking how poorly timed this all felt. My last week of work and the last week before moving home permanently. As everyone would understand my absence, I felt that he was my one grandfather and even if it was just for me, there needed to be closure and I needed to be home with my family.

So Tuesday morning I boarded a plane in Jacksonville and arrived just an hour before the viewing began. Under the reasoning circumstance of my presence there were smiles and hugs at seeing me home again. The first hour of viewing was private, for the grandkids and cousins to see him and say goodbye before the casket was closed to received extended family and friends. Poor Ryan spent his 22^nd birthday saying goodbye to his grandpa in a strange funeral home. We took him out to B-dubs afterwards to try and lightened the load.

As unemotional as the viewing was in comparison to my grandmother’s 4 years ago, I wasn’t anticipating myself to be a big balling mess for the funeral the following morning. After the services at the funeral home, we processed in line to the nearby cemetery for another ceremony with the color guard. As my grandfather served in the Navy in Cuba, his one request was for a military service. I don’t think any of us expected what was coming especially since nobody knew where to stand or when to walk in. I watched as the Naval officer escorted my Aunt Judy up the steps of the mausoleum as my 4 brothers and 3 cousins carried the flag-draped casket down the aisle in front of them. The playing of taps was performed followed by a silent folding of the flag. But the most somber moment came when you could clearly see the tears in the eyes of the naval representative as he knelt before my aunt and presented her the freshly folded American flag and thanked her for her father’s contribution to his country. In conclusion, the funeral director invited each member in attendance to place our hands on the casket as we got up to leave explaining that our handprint is as unique to us as the lives we live. I quietly sat with my little brother as we watched those seated behind us get up to give their last respects. When it was our turn, I grabbed Ryan’s arm as we approached. Again, I was not prepared for the gravity of the object in front of me and combined with the military service the rush of emotions produced that overtook me. To be honest, I don’t think Ryan was prepared for me either as I tightened my grip on him for steady. Grandpa was at peace and I was happy for him to be freed of this world.

It was right to be home. I know grandpa would want me there. It was a time when my family needed to be complete again, without one missing.

As little as I was, I do still have cloudy memories of grabbing my panda bear and putting on my shiny red coat early in the morning to walk down 12 mile road in front of A&W with my grandpa while my parents prepared the restaurant to open. One of my favorite things to do when I was 2 years old.