Thursday, July 30, 2015


I don't know what I can say. I'm sad and lonely and fucking scared. If you've followed me for a while, you know my grandfather, who had a major hand in raising me, has had difficulties of late. He's back in the VA because of his heart. The front valve, he says, isn't opening regularly. They told him that they can fix it with surgery, but he doesn't want to do that.

Oh fucking fuck. He's ready to die. I've known this for a while, but it hasn't been real until now.

I can barely type this through a veil of tears. He means so much to me, and I know he's ready to go. He has a pamphlet from the VA about going into hospice. INTO HOSPICE. When he told me that, I felt my eyes burning. I didn't want to cry in front of him because I wanted him to know I was strong enough for this.

But I saw something tonight that I've never seen before. My grandfather, my hero for as long as I've been alive, cried tonight. He bawled his eyes out. He begged me to take care of my grandmother. I've never seen him like this before, and I felt weak to my very core. It scared me more than I've ever been scared in my adult life.

God, I can't stop crying. Oh please. I'm sorry. Help me. Please. I'm losing my mind. I'm so scared.

They took him downstairs for PT today. He did pretty well until he fell when he was using the walker they gave him. I saw the bruises and the bandages. He told me his shoulder hurt so much, but he was afraid to ask for painkillers to help.

All of my life, he told me that he hated having a beard. He needed to be clean-shaven at all times. The only day of the week he didn't shave was Sunday, just because he wanted to relax. Tonight . . . tonight he has a beard. No one at the VA wants to shave him. I have never seen him with hair on his chin before, and it's scaring me a lot. He's got headaches that come and go, but when they're coming, he doesn't even look like my grandfather anymore. The little hair he has is wild. He has a beard. His face isn't like anyone I know. He holds his head in pain, and I don't know what I can say. I beg him to tell the staff, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to because I think he's ready for the end.

I'm not ready for that. I can't live without my grandfather. He's made so much of an impact on me that I don't know what I can do. I want him to come home. I want him to be OK. I want him to . . . I want him to BE.

I'm sorry for all the times I was impatient with him because he couldn't hear me. I'm sorry for all the times I was angry because he soiled himself and the floor. Please don't take him from me. I love him too much. I can't see myself living without him.

God, if you're really there, help me. Don't take my grandfather away. Please. I beg of you.

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