Saturday, December 23, 2006

Finally some quiet time...

I've been craving some time to just sit here and ponder while I type. My Grampa passed away this past Wednesday morning. I know he's at peace now and that he's not suffering anymore. After coming home from the funeral and wake at his house I instinctively picked up the phone to call him and let him know I got here. I even dialed four out of the eleven numbers before I realized what I was doing... While this doesn't seem as traumatic as when Nana died(this past August), it does have a greater sense of finality. It's official, they are both gone(they went four months apart). What I wouldn't give... I'm sure it'd be similar to those that have been in my shoes. I've buried three relatives in two years. My father was defiantly the hardest, but not for the reasons you're thinking, I'm sure. We were not close at all. When he died in March of '05 it had been five years since I had seen him. Nothing like a hands on lesson in regret. Nana died so quickly, I hardly knew my ass from my elbow while it was happening. One minute she was diagnosed with a blood disorder, the next colon cancer, and then... she died due to complications from what was supposed to be a quick in and out surgery to remove the cancer. But the final arrangements seemed to take forever! It was like time stopped when she died and then didn't really get going again for a few weeks. Everything just seemed to linger. No so with Grampa. He was diagnosed with liver cancer in Feb of '06. Very aggressive liver cancer. If memory serves correctly, they tried three different types of chemotherapy and each type was out smarted by the fucking monster. They ended up taking him off the chemo all together three weeks ago. That was the longest three weeks of my life. Who is it harder on, the person dying, or the ones that have to watch? As awful as it sounds, I just wished for a quick and merciful death in his sleep because he was just so miserable. In one year's time he had gone from an independent 77 year old husband, to a helpless 77 year old widower. He had lost everything he'd ever achieved, earned, and worked for. Thankfully he did get a quiet and peaceful passing, and I supposed he could have lingered a bit longer. I'm just glad he's at rest now. Unlike after Nana died though, things went a hell of a lot faster. He died Wednesday morning; the wake was Thursday night and the Funeral Mass was Friday morning. Everything was done so quickly because of the impending holiday. Now, I just miss them both. No more waving at the door when I leave, and no more phone calls when I get home safely. No more chicken fingers and rice-a-roni, and no more ice cream cake surprise birthdays. And even though I'm making the Christmas Trifle from the same recipe Nana did, it just won't be the same... nothing will. And I guess I'll just have to accept that(even though we all know that I don't HAVE to do anything).

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