My heart Broke on Friday in Generalities

I’m not sure why PB auto-chose “Gone” as my title for this, but it’s so fitting.

If you follow me on facebook, you may already know that Grandpa M****r went Friday.

If you followed me on OD, you already know what he meant to me.

My sarcastic, stoic family, doesn’t know what to do with themselves. I’ve never seen any of them break down like this. I don’t know what to do with my self.

I need this for posterity. And if I can’t use this for that, then what is is good for? (absolutely nothing)

He hasn’t been healthy since his valve replacement surgery a few years ago. He’s been miserable. We were there when he transferred down here on Wednesday - because Dad was the only one that was coming down with him and I wanted to be here Because Everything. And just as it was getting time for us to go home for some sleep before we came back in the morning, Grandpa sputtered at us, “Why haven’t you guys let me die, yet??” with a look that added, “No, SRRSLY.” And Dad responded with, “Well, what the hell are we supposed to do??” We said get some rest and we’ll be here in the morning.

Only morning came, and I got the call from Tarah that he couldn’t talk anymore…all he could do was facial expressions and use one of his hands. Who’s Grandpa without the one-liners and zingers that we’d grown up with??? I showed up, and threw in the zingers on his behalf when I could and spent the day with him and everyone else. I was there so late the night before, that I finally decided to leave and take a nap about 4:30. I grabbed his hand and told him I needed a break and nap, and that’d I’d be back later with Jeremy. By that point, he couldn’t track anything with his eyes anymore - he’d been able to that morning, but there was just a glaze. He squeezed my hand as soon as I said I would be back in an hour or so. I could NOT EVEN, as I realized he was still there and kissed him on the cheek and said “Okay? I will see you soon. Yes? Love you.” And he *squeezed* *squeezed* again.

Because you canNOT even comprehend how hard it to talk to someone you love who is still THERE, but not able to talk back. I didn’t know until I was there. I didn’t know this (because I was literally conversing with him the night before) until I had to answer his hospital room line and hold the phone up to his ear for my uncle and fam in Washington and guesswork when they were done saying their good-byes. Their final good-byes. “So..uh…Okay, y’done?” Yeah, that happened.

I came back with Jer....and Grandpa was asleep. We sat with him and Aunt Dee for a bit, but didn’t wake him when we left - he’d had so many relatives that day. The next morning - before we could head over, Tarah and I got an email from Dad saying Grandpa had not woke up, that he probably wouldn’t, and that he (Dad) was heading back down to the hospital. We immediately cancelled everything and headed back, too.

Shortly after one, Dad said he was going to go home for a nap. Jer decided to walk him out and go home to copy him and to take care of a list of stuff I had. Just before two, Tarah said she was going to go down to the cafeteria and get some lunch. I decided to stay.

At 2:05, Grandpa’s little brother, Hank was wheeled in to visit. At 2:10, everyone in the room noticed Grandpa’s breathing had suddenly gone from worse to non-existent. I texted Tarah to come back. His pulse was still going.

I can barely write what happened next. Aunt Katie (a nurse) took his pulse. Said we should get his nurse. Everyone started touching his shoulder/arm/hand and text/calling whoever needed to get there. I could still see his pulse slowing in his neck. I walked across the room, wrapped my arms around him and hugged. I told him to go. It’s okay to go, Grandpa. We love you, but it’s SO OKAY to go. And then I couldn’t. I could not. I let go and backed away.

I called Dad’s, but Tiff said he hadn’t made it home yet. I had to tell my little sister. And everything seized up as I told her. “You don’t have to tell him. Just tell him to call me as soon as he gets home. Immediately. I know. I’m sorry. This is shitty.” I wanted to punch Katie she decided to take it upon herself to immediately call Grandpa’s cell (that Dad had on him) and tell him, rather than give me the number when I asked “Can you give it to me, please?” HE’S DRIVING! He told me the next day that he wished that had not been the way he found out. On the freeway just outside of Rogers. I found out later that Tiff told Dylan and that they were both waiting for Dad as he pulled into the driveway. There was still no word from Tarah.

“Oh hey, are you gonna grab some lunch finally?” “Did you see my text?” “What? No....there’s no signal down here.” “Tarah, he’s gone.” “Wut?....GodDAMMIT, I KNEW he was gonna do that as soon as I left.”

I don’t know if I’m glad I was there. I told Dad the next day what I did - the hug and GO. His biggest worry was Grandpa being alone when it was finally time and I know he wanted to be there. Jer told me later that while he was napping, Grandpa came to him wanting to go, and then he woke up and saw my text saying that he had stopped breathing. Told me that in his dream, he told him we were ready for him to go. And when he told me that, I told him I had just told him the same thing while hugging him. I’m not sure what to do with that information but put way too much weight on it.

I was reminded on Saturday when I went with Dad to the funeral home to plan stuff how much Grandpa had liked to sing and play his guitar for us. When Tarah and I were little, this was The Song. I can’t listen to it without picturing us sitting in the the living room floor of the farmhouse. Thumping the guitar at the “Stopped. Short” and it’s all too relevant, but such a huge chunk and I so need to find the guitar that he stashed in Dad’s garage for me when I said I wanted to learn....

And on a happier, brighter, smiley note…this is him pretending to fall off of a cliff. Grandma giving me this photo has been the highlight of my weekend.