The Death Watch

That is what Brian's family is on. Grandpa (or Pap, as Brian calls him, or Pappy, as Jordan calls him) fell again while at the nursing home this past Friday and had bleeding in his brain. Since his health has been deteriorating, Grandma (I forget what Brian calls her; Jordan calls her GG) decided it would be best not to drill holes in his head/brain, knowing this 90ish man might not survive the surgery. So he is on pain medication but pretty much nothing else. The doctors said it could be a few hours or a few days before he passes away. Well, it has now been four days.

So we wait. And wait. And I am thinking maybe Grandpa should have had the surgery. I realize he might not have lived through it, but is lying in a coma for days (or even a week or more) really much better? What if he would have been okay?

Friday evening, Brian and I pondered what to tell Jordan. We were not sure if we should wait until he passed (notice how I am avoiding saying "death" or "dies"), or if we should forewarn her. The next morning, we decided to tell her that Pappy was very sick and he was probably going to heaven soon. As I told her this, my voice cracked, but she seemed okay. We also decided we would not take her to the hospital partly because we did not think he would still be alive when we got there, but mostly because we did not want that to be her last memory of Pappy.

Sunday night, when we prayed, Jordan asked God to let Pappy get better. I told her we can pray that, but it probably won't happen. I had no idea what else to say. Death is hard for most of us. And sometimes dying can be worse. I am trying to take comfort knowing (which is really assuming) Grandpa is not in any pain and that he lived a long life. But I am also sad for the loss of him, especially because my grandfathers were gone long before I was born. And I worry how Jordan will take it when it happens. She has some issues with heaven and dying. Not unlike many of us.



Mel said…
sorry to hear this. you never know, though--miracles happen. still.

re: death and kids, honestly I think they handle it better than we do. we had to tell M about his kitty. we told him when we picked him up from preschool. we drove home. we asked him if he wanted to pet kitty one more time. he did. we all did. and then he got up and started cutting paper like he loves to do. we mentioned finding a soft blanket to bury kitty in, and he was all over it. helped me pick it out. and when we talked about burying kitty? where to? he helped us pick a spot, on the spot. no hesitation. we dug. we placed. he inscribed the stone with a sharpie. and that was that. the next day, I asked him where he wanted to set up trains outside and he promptly replied, "down by where we buried kitty." end of story.

she'll be okay. whenever it does come to pass (literally and figuratively).

and by the way, your Kelly Frey story really got me. I cried. I will never make a wisecrack about her again. she is a much more real deal than I thought. thanks for opening my eyes. ; )
Facie :-) said…
Thanks. But no miracle. See the post I am going to write now.

Glad the Kelly Frey thing touched you. A few people emailed me to thank me for letting them know. Hope the little guy is doing okay.

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