On Friday, my granddad died...
When the phone rang at 7 am, I knew it was about my granddad.
Granddad had been given 6 months to live two years ago. Cancer... *shudder*
But being the kind of man that Granddad was, he beat the odds. At 89, he begin to run from cancer ... and it took it 2 yrs to catch up with him... I think that's some pretty good running at his age. No chemotherapy, just a little bit of medicine for the pain. But when Granddad began to deteriorate, it seems it happened overnight. All of a sudden, Granddad's eyesight failed him. Then confusion crept upon him; he'd get lost in the house trying to go to the bathroom or back to his bedroom from the kitchen. Then he didn't have energy to get up from the bed. Then, his appetite left him. While the death sentance had been outrun nearly two years, it only took two months for it to grab hold of him and wrestle him to the ground.
I don't think I have fully processed it yet... tears have not come for me...
Even though I am the one who is working on the funeral arrangements, typing up the program and the death announcement for the local paper, I still have not felt the loss yet. My mom and my auntie who has been here for him till he took his last breath are holding up well... but they are letting the tears come. I still have not had a tear to come. The wake is Thursday night and the funeral is Friday afternoon... maybe I will allow the tears to come then... but what will probably happen is this... when everyone else has gone home... and things slow down, and there is no family to cater to, and everything slows down... I can get a good cry... and say my personal good-bye to my Granddad.
