I spent Saturday from 11:00am until 9:45pm at the hospital with my Grandpa. He is deteriorating - we were hoping that he would pull out of this, but it doesn't seem that it's going to work out that way - he is in kidney failure and is not responsive as of yesterday. We are in the process of transferring him to hospice care at my parents place, if he makes it there. I don't believe he will last more than 48 hours - unless God chooses to intervene otherwise. I have spent the majority of the weekend at the hospital and am getting ready to go back as soon as I finish this post.
This is a hard post to write because I really don't have a lot of words. I have noticed that with every hospice situation (Grandma V, Grandpa S, and MIL), I have turned inward like this. Funny that I have been through this enough to notice a pattern in my behavior. It is hard watching someone die - it's lengthy and short at the same time. There's this waiting and hurrying - hurrying to get to their bedside, and then... waiting. It's odd to catch myself in everyday things, to laugh, or buy groceries, and then be suddenly transported to the thin line between life and death. Very odd balance to keep. From the mundane to the profound and then back again.
Went to youth group last night and it was odd to be welcoming the new youth intern, talking about prejudice (the topic for the night), eating cake and trying to hold light conversation with people, all the while freezing every time the phone rang, or suddenly tears would well up for no reason. I am sure I seemed a basket case and perhaps should not have gone. It's the balance between wanting the world to stop until this is settled and having to keep committments.
On Saturday, I got to tell him I loved him many times, and in between the labored breaths, he mouthed back that he loved me too. His blue eyes were glazed over and very "old" - and they seemed so beautiful to me. Katie got on the bed and read him a story and he reached out to hold her hand. When he saw Jeff, he turned his head ever so slightly, eyes widened and mouthed, "hey, man" - just like he always did when he greeted Jeff. He breathed out a "God bless you" to my mom. Sometimes, he would just open his eyes and seem to look at something that I couldn't see - I always wonder what is going on inside the shell that we see. I wonder if he sees his parents, his wife. I wonder if he is remembering the stories of his youth. I wonder if Christ Himself is visiting. I wouldn't put it past Him. These are such very sacred moments.
I am off to sit in those moments. Will keep you posted...