volatile

Well, the funeral was this morning. It's been a long tiring day, first at the funeral home, then out at the grave site. It was so hot out, even under the shade of the tent, that we had streams of sweat pouring from our faces, though I was in such a start of shock and sadness I really couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears, or a mixture of both. When my brother stood up, his burgundy dress shirt was almost completely dark from sweat. I don't know how my other brother was wearing a full suit. My grandpa looked so much better, completely different from when he passed.

The thing that got me the most, was that I saw him die. I've never seen anyone die and to be with him in his last moments was a monumental thing.

When we got out to the nursing home saturday morning they said his respiration had gone down and he could be in that state til Monday, but he probably wouldn't make it that long. My grandmother wanted to come out an be with him, so my aunt went to go get her, leaving My brother, my Mother, and myself there with him. Almost immediately after my aunt left he started gasping for air. My brother went to get the nurse and I started feeling sick to my stomache. My brother offered to walk me to the bathroom, but I knew that if I left, he wouldn't be alive when I came back. So my Mom was on one side of him, holding his hand, and my brother and I were on his other side holding his arm. He took a few big last breaths, then there was what I can only describe as a sigh of relief as all the life left his body. We all sat there and cried for some time, and I walked out front to call family members and tell them. As I was out there, my aunt and grandmother arrived and saw me crying, and asked me over and over again what was wrong, but I couldn't tell my grandma that her husband of 61 years just passed. I couldn't handle that.

My dad arrived shortly after, and he's probably the one I needed most. My dad and I are really close, so I don't know what I'd do without him. I tried calling into work while I had stopped crying, but as soon as the phone started ringing and I was thinking about what I was going to have to say, I lost it again. I still felt sick so I had my dad rush me home where I immediately started vomiting uncontrollably. I laid down soon after, and tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, the images of his last moments kept replaying in my head. I can't get the image of his newly lifeless body out of my mind. It's been on my mind for days now and making it nearly impossible to sleep.

Everyone tells me to remember the good times, and there are many good times, but for some reason all I can think of is him being crippled by his disease. Alzhiemer's is a cruel disease, and it hurts so bad to see the man that raised me go through that. When I was younger my parents were broke so they worked all the time, soI was raised by my grandma and grandpa. They did everything for me. I lived with him, "Grangran" and Nana til I was 15. Even now that I've moved back home, I'm living with my Nana again. He was a great man.


The obit was wrong in saying that I live in VA now, though I don't know why.