Saying Goodbye

Does 2008 suck or what? For me and Britney Spears, both.

I spent eight hours yesterday at my grandpa's bedside at the nursing home, along with many other family members, watching him take ragged breaths throughout the day. It was almost easier to just stay and sit beside him, holding his hand, than to leave. Saying goodbye, when you really do mean goodbye, is one of the hardest things to do.

We didn't think he'd make it through the night but my grandpa is stubborn. He's going to go in his own time, not ours. I took the day off and plan to go back out there today and be with him and my grandma. My aunt Sal stayed the night with him and we're trying to make sure someone is with him at all times. No one, especially grandpa, should have to die alone.

It's difficult to explain the type of relationship my grandpa Les has had with his grandchildren and great-grandchildren to most people. He truly loved his grandkids, and in fact, the only people he'll open his eyes for now, in his weakened state, are his grandchildren. Nels tried to console me yesterday, telling me that we should feel grateful we had the type of relationship we had with him, that many people never have that opportunity. I told him I don't care about those people ... Maybe it makes dying a whole lot easier when you don't know them as well. I don't know.

Erika cried inconsolably in our bed last night. My grandparents lived with us for five months about five years ago when they were building their home. They helped raise her. When they moved into their new house, just a couple blocks away, she would get off the bus there and stay after school. She and grandpa would fight over the remote control, grandma's cookies and just about everything else. He called her "Putt-Putt." She tousled his hair whenever she got the chance. She and grandma would make snow angels together and get into snowball fights. They both looked forward to her getting off the bus around 3:30 p.m. everyday. Even their dachshund, Greta, watched for her school bus.

Erika was so sweet with grandpa last night. Erika and I stroked his arm while my aunt Shari held his hand and Erika shared stories about her and her great-grandpa. I'm so thankful that she has gotten to know her great-grandparents as I and my cousins have. And I'm grateful that my daughter is as sweet and caring as she is.

I was thinking last night about how sad it is that, if and when Nels and I have a child together, this child would not know his/her great-grandpa like Erika. I'm not the only one who feels that way. My cousin Shannon told grandpa yesterday through her tears that she would tell her 3-month-old son, Mason, what a special great-grandpa he had.

But as I look through the many photographs I'm compiling for a photo slideshow at my grandpa's memorial service right now, I realize that even though he won't be here any longer , thanks to an insidious disease called PSP, he'll always still be here because we are here. My cousin Heidi called him "the anchor" in our family, and she was right...and he'd appreciate the Navy reference.

And as my aunt Shari kept telling my cousins when they called, "Grandpa knows you love him. He knows."