My grandpa isn’t doing so well.
He has COPD. His condition has been slowly declining over the years. I would say it was probably 6 or 7 years ago when things first got dire. He was put on oxygen–I don’t know that we expected for him to stick around as long as he has. But regardless of how long a chronic and terminal illness/condition goes it doesn’t change grief. Grief still hits regardless of how long you prepare for it–or think you’re preparing for it.
Just like holding onto life we hold to the lives of others we love. Perhaps we animate some of the fight for life internally. We want them to stay with us. Maybe it’s selfish. We know how terribly we will miss them. We know we want them to see us hit milestones. We want to continue to share our lives with them.
I think… My heart aches for him for having to stay this long even. It’s not that I want him to go, I don’t want him to be stuck here. I don’t know when discomfort in life is too great to carry on. I think hearing him struggle to breath once was heart breaking, and the thought that it could come at any moment.
At this point his care has shifted from making a way to breath easier to easing the pain. His ability to breath doesn’t seem to improve after intervention anymore.
It reminds me of saying goodbye to someone when they move you still feel sad when they move no matter how much you feel you “prepare” for it. There aren’t really options in this case for keeping in contact. We essentially become their physical form when they die. We are the ones that carry them in our hearts, thoughts, and actions in the years to come.
I think if anything I want God’s peace to fill our hearts. Peace. The calm waters that soothe our sorrow and trouble. Peace, the wisdom of eternity.