Writing is how I process my emotions. And if not for this month long challenge, these words would most likely be finding themselves on a page of a journal. Maybe these words will land with someone who needs to hear them. Maybe these words will only help me. But here they are.
My Grampie passed away this afternoon. Goodness I cannot stop crying. I go through spells of tears, and then hours of being fine. But once those tears start up, they don't stop.
Last week, or maybe a week and half ago? My little brother texted me, "Have you seen Grampie lately?" He continued to tell me that my Grampie had been put on hospice. I cried that night, but I didn't cry once for the next week. I simply did not believe it. The closest person that I've experienced death with was my great grandma Julia. I was three years old when she passed, and I remember giggling in the pew at her funeral service because they were playing a song that said "Julia" over and over again. Death had not existed in my world, so I was in denial that it was coming. And I knew that I was in denial too. When I told my friends, I didn't cry. I didn't get choked up. It just was not real.
On Saturday, my older brother texted me, "Hey, have you seen Grampie recently?" Oh boy, this again...That night I cried at dinner. And the next morning, I woke up, dry eyed and in denial again. I went to work at 11:45 like I would any other day. At 11:49, my dad texted me letting me know that Grampie had 48 hours left to live. And I didn't stop crying until around 1:30. It was real now. There was a time limit, and it was running out. My dad offered to pick me up and take me to the farm to be with my Grampie and the family, and I almost didn't go. My last memory was hugging Grampie goodbye, lying my head on his chest. That was a good last memory to hold onto. I was terrified to see my Grampie in a state like that. In my head, I envisioned him shaking and choking and gasping for breath. I had convinced myself that that's what death looked like and I didn't want that to be the last thing I saw of him. And then I saw myself, sitting at his funeral, mad that I was only 40 minutes away and didn't go see him. So I went, and that alone has saved me over and over again. He wasn't shaking. He wasn't choking. He wasn't gasping for air. He wasn't responding to us either, but he looked peaceful. He just looked like he was napping.
All of these emotions that I'm feeling are very new to me, and trying to put words to them seems like an impossible task. But within these last couple weeks, I have felt scared, confused, heavy, denial, worry, and all these other feelings that I don't even have words for. But in this one moment, it was very clear to me what losing someone felt like. I watched my dad, look down at his dad in a hospital bed and whisper, "Where did you go? You were just here." And I watched the tears fall down his face. And then I sat in the tightest embrace I've ever shared with my dad, and we bawled. Our bodies shook and our breaths were unsteady. My stomach was in knots and my heart physically hurt. It was in that moment that I felt it all. That was the feeling that I had been trying to avoid. That was the feeling that my denial was trying to protect me from. That was the feeling that told me this was real.
Last night, I barely slept for fear that any second someone was going to wake me up with news that Grampie had passed. But I woke up this morning, and he was still here. And he was still just napping. Denial had set in again. My Grampie was just napping. He was going to wake up, and he was going to be better.
I got back to Sidney around noon today, and at 2:47 p.m., I got the text that my Grampie had made it to Heaven. And then it started to rain. A few posts ago, I mentioned how I have been really drawn towards quotes that have to do with rain and water. And here it was, raining only minutes later. I looked up what it meant when it rains after a death, and the first thing I saw said, "When any pure soul departs from this world, the Heaven rains as the sign that the blessed soul reached the Heaven safely and is there happily." And then the sun came out. I cried with the rain, and I smiled with sun. I know that was my Grampie.
And now, my last memory is standing with my family in prayer over him. I rubbed his shoulder and said "See you later, Grampie. I love you." As the pastor that had come to visit was leaving, he wrapped his arm around me and said "Your grandpa heard you." And that's all I need. Those four words are all I need.
Last night, the most beautiful sunset filled the sky. I wanted to record it so I could have it forever, as a reminder of all the beautiful times that I shared with Grampie, but then it turned into something more. This video gives me peace, and I hope that it does the same for my family.
Quite a few years ago, Grampie had a stack of cowboy hats hanging on the top of a dining room chair. I put one on, and whether Googie told me to take it, Grampie told me to have it, or maybe I just took it, I truly don't remember why I have it. But, tonight I'm wearing it.
Love,
Just cowgirl Julia