Death is beautiful when seen to be a law, and not an accident - It is as common as life.
- Henry David Thoreau
As I write this my grandfather lies next to me in a hospital bed taking his last breaths. It has been an enlightening 19 hours or so since I arrived at the Hospice Center.
At first, his physical appearance was startling. So different from two weeks earlier when I was with him last. Two weeks ago he was polite but forceful in voice. Appeared frail but was very strong. I fully believed he would walk away from the hospital within a day or two and live for another year or so. Now, that seems like such a lifetime ago.
Today, I barely recognize him. As I watch him, the only recognizable element are his crystal blue eyes. They flicker open every now and again attempting to look people in the eyes as they speak. Even on his deathbed, he still displays the elements of honor and respect. Sadly, those beautiful eyes have the haze of pending death on them. Just the other day Popsie's vision was better than 20/20 even at the age of 96... today, I am not so sure if he can see much at all. However, for years he had been hard of hearing... yet the Hospice nurses say he can hear me clearly as I whisper to him. Crystal clear hearing to replace his sudden failing vision. And by his reactions, the sudden opening of eyes, the ever so slight lift of his head and movement of his parched mouth along with the squeezing of the hand, it all appears to ring true.
At times, I am afraid to speak for fear he will hear the catch in my voice as I struggle to keep back my selfish tears. Tears not quite wanting him to go. Wishing for things to be back to the way they were just a few weeks ago. I don't want him to know of my selfish desires because I know he needs to go. 96 amazing years is long enough. And he managed to keep his mind and body through it all.
He is sleeping now, peaceful. I, curled up in a chair, feet propped upon the railing below his bed, Readying myself to grab his hand and offer comfort the moments he shows signs of distress.
To the left of me, laying on the couch is his beloved devoted wife of 40+ years. She has barely slept but still looks beautiful, calm and peaceful. She looks 25 years younger than she is and though not family by blood, I am still proud to call her my grandma. She has been fiercely loyal and protective of my grandfather all this time. Never forgetting the gift of a new way of life for her and for many members of her family... but that's another beautiful story all its own.
I am paying attention to the encroaching signs of death... cold feet (check), cold hands (nope, still soft and warm to touch), fingernails darkening (nope, just as pink as mine) palms bright red....no.... as pale pink as ever. But for the first time, I notice his hands. Though confettied with the brown spots of age, they look beautiful. Perhaps he should have had a side career as a hand model. His hands are soft and supple, whereas mine are rough and wrinkly by comparison looking older than his. His nails are WOW. If only I had a picture. They are well manicured, no ridges, no yellowishness, nor unsightly thickness... just perfect. Each one more oval than square. His grip and squeezes are incredibly strong even for a younger person.
I listen to the oxygen machine that seems to measure the distance and length of each breath. And am alarmed when more than 10 seconds of silence occurs.
Ahhh.... I soo regret not being more together with my words and thoughts in describing this. I find it all so peaceful and more easily accepting than I thought possible.
I await for my mom to arrive. She is driving several states to be by his side. I fully believe he will still be here for that moment. And she will be the one along with his wife and son to witness Popsie crossing over. I, on the other hand, will be home with my own children holding them tight. I am happy my mom will get her wish.
Three years ago, mom held vigil by my dad's father's deathbed. She was there as he crossed. I'm sure it prepared her for this moment with her own father. I know it gave her the intense desire to do the same with Popsie. We really believe her father is awaiting for her arrival before he goes. He has really defied everyone's expectations and will not rest until she comes to fill or complete his family circle of comfort.
The missing link has arrived... the time is 3:08 March 6.
