My original inspiration when setting out to write a new blog post today had to do with patience. I'm sure that an upcoming post will still be about patience but I want to go a completely different route today. Typical woman, right? Changing my mind at the drop of a hat.
Three years ago today, my grandfather (Pop-Pop) passed away. I currently can't plan the proper train of thought to follow up that statement, so please forgive me if this post is somewhat more disjointed than I'd like it to be.
I can remember the night of my Pop-Pop's passing so vividly. I was up in North Jersey with my best friend Megan and we were excited to spend a fun night together. She and I don't get to see each other as often as we'd like to so we were likely overdue for a hangout session. Just as we were getting back to her house from being out, my phone rang and my father told me that my grandfather had coded and was at the hospital. Megan immediately saw my demeanor change and without a second thought she was ready to come with me for the ride. Now, I don't know if it was angels or luck or whatever but I sped down the Parkway so fast that I was sure I'd either crash or get pulled over. I made it from Fair Lawn to Rahway in about 25 minutes and didn't see one cop nor was there any type of traffic. Thank God for small miracles, right? By the time we arrived, he had already coded a second time but they were able to bring him back again. He was still just barely holding on when we were there. My boyfriend at the time also met me at the hospital so I was lucky enough to have my best friend, boyfriend, and father all there while these awful and painful moments were occurring. My uncle arrived and we all just stood there, hoping and praying that some post-Thanksgiving, pre-Christmas miracle would happen and he would be able to hold on and stay with us.
They say life imitates art and this was the most raw instance of that. I felt like I was in a movie when the doctor came in and told us that he was sorry and that my grandfather had passed. My uncle hit the wall and then slid down to the floor in a release of pure emotion. My father said "No" and then turned away as he began to cry. I sat curled in the chair in what I've come to call the "Bad News Room", crying and having both Megan and my boyfriend attempt to comfort me. I can almost see it as a painting titled "Loss" or "The Moment Of Farewell" painted in those stupid hospital blues, greens, and pinks with each of us portrayed as a unique emotional mess.
I miss my grandfather every single day. I had the luck of living upstairs from my grandparents my entire life. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents at the malls, at Point Pleasant, at the racetrack, in Atlantic City, in NYC, and just in the downstairs apartment for dinner or a chat or for the holidays. I can still sense the feeling of Christmas downstairs with the warmth of the heat, the laughter of throwing wrapping paper at each other, everyone sitting in the same spot year after year. I was lucky to have had such a strong and meaningful relationship with my grandparents.
Toward the end of my grandfather's life, he was struggling with dementia. He would often repeat the same question anywhere from two to ten times. He never got to the point where he didn't know who we were, but he was definitely confused and not the same as he had been. It was hard. I can admit to you right now that I don't think any one of us was a saint with patience when it came to his harder days. It can be very challenging and if you've already had a day that tried your patience, it wasn't always easy to feel ready for the same question over and over again (I lied, I did talk about patience!). He always tended to be a repeater though. My grandfather used to tell the same stories time after time after time. I would go downstairs to visit and I would hear the same stories. I could almost repeat them verbatim. But when I woke up this morning and began thinking about my Pop-Pop and how much I miss him, I realized that I don't remember all of those stories. It was a terrible realization and I almost feel guilty that I can't. You know, when someone tells you the same story over and over again you generally get to the point where you only half listen because you know where it's going. I wish I had fully listened every single time now because I feel like I'm missing part of his memories.
This long and probably depressing post is really just another reminder to love every second of a person you have when they're around. The annoying thing a loved one does is going to be something you miss terribly when they're gone. The story that you've heard 18 times? You're going to want to hear it so badly again. Make sure that you tell people you love them today. Whether it's the first time or the thousandth time, just tell them. Reminisce about someone you miss or listen extra intently when someone is telling you something you're certain you've heard before.
We have so much sadness that comes out of loss of any kind. Losing a loved one is one of the most heartbreaking things we go through in this life. We also have the opportunity to find lessons in loss. Each moment in life is precious and we don't get them back once they pass. It's far too easy to rush around in this busy life and not take in and appreciate the moments that have been given to us. I hope you take advantage of those moments and the love and the stories today.
I'm sending you my warmth and love if you're missing someone today or feeling a sense of loss.
PS: I tried to post an adorable picture of yours truly at about age 7 with my grandparents on Easter but the pic refuses to go through. You'll just have to imagine me with bangs and a pink bow holding a stuffed bunny and being totally cute with my grandparents.
