April was all about breathing. Literally. My asthma went out of control and after fumbling with medications, inhalers, and breathing treatments, I finally found a delicate balance and I no longer make sounds that frighten small children and animals.
A few weeks ago, we found out that Daniel’s Grandpa was very sick. With cancer spread throughout his body, and little to no chance of making it through any type of treatment, we made a weekend trip to Maryland so we could spend time with him once more before his inevitable passing.
It was a wonderful trip in that we got to spend time with family, made memories, and even had sword fights at each stop along the way. But as we sat in Grandpa’s living room, it was bittersweet. Daniel and I had a lively conversation with Grandpa and thank goodness we did because he started on morphine that evening and his personality immediately changed. Obviously, he was very sleepy from that point on but he also just appeared to be withdrawn and uncertain of what to say or think. Perhaps that was his last lively conversation. I’m certainly treasuring our words together.
Daniel and Harry playing a puzzle in the dining room.
Oliver and Hobo being adorable. And having a few moments of quiet before that loud and crazy five year old dashes by again.
Quite unexpectedly, we had a birthday celebration for ME on Sunday. I turned 31! We also made time for more sword fights in the castle at the park behind their home.
When we first drove up, I gasped because everything was in bloom and since we normally visit the Bergeys at Thanksgiving or Christmas, I never see it in Spring. In fact, I think I have only been there in Spring one other time and it was after we got engaged.
Everything delightfully green and bloomy.
We explored every nook and cranny around the woods and relaxed with family.
The geese were adorned as usual and Cassidy, Sarah, and I had an absolutely wonderful time catching up, painting, and watching Once Upon a Time (I got them hooked).
Drew and Sarah found a “cat-a-pillow” and Cassidy’s little Oliver melted my heart. If we weren’t in an apartment, I would be nagging Daniel like crazy to get a dog. I realize we aren’t really pet people but UGH Oliver is so cute and cuddly.
The one thing that I could kick myself for is that I didn’t take a single picture of Grandpa.
In 2007, I took this picture of the four generations of Bergey men and I so wanted to take it again this month but each time I went to visit Grandpa I was more focused on him and my time with him and just didn’t even think about pictures.
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I have been quiet since we got home. It always takes me a few days to handle re-entry into our normal but this time it has taken me a bit longer.
I’m working on a secret project (I’ll blog about it in a few weeks) so my hands have been busy but my mind has been overwhelmed with my last conversation with Grandpa.
Here is a man in his nineties, on his deathbed, who in saying goodbye to his family members is worrying that he may be doing something wrong in God’s eyes.
His first wife died because her family thought seeking medical help would anger God. He tells the story and I feel the rage building in my stomach. He has fears about starting morphine because he’s always been taught that God talks to you through your pain and how will he hear if the pain lessens? But he’s hurting and with wide eyes he says, “maybe science is right? Maybe morphine is okay? I disagree that God will be angered.”
We attempt to calm his fears only to hear his murmurings on whether he’ll have wings when he gets to heaven. I don’t know what to say because now is not the time to explain my lack of faith so I smile and say, “I wonder.”
He says God has told him to stop reading certain books because it portrays life in a way that it is certainly not and he worries that he has been too caught up in it.
We give him our love and walk away and I’m overwhelmed at how religion is so afraid of science. And I wish so much that Grandpa wasn’t afraid of doing the wrong things and that he could just relax peacefully in his last days.
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Harry texted me today that hospice thinks Grandpa only has 24 to 48 hours to live so everyone there is focused on making him calm and comfortable.
Daniel will be making the trip when it happens but Drew and I are going to stay here. We already said our goodbyes and now Drew and I are gingerly talking about death. So far, that means walking through our apartment and looking at all the things that Grandpa carved and made for us. And Drew quietly saying, “I’m going to miss him.”
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Edit: While typing this, I got the news. Grandpa is gone.
We loved you so. We’ll keep your memory alive.
