Lost the Greatest Person of All

On Friday August 1st 2008, my grandfather died. We called him Papaw so for the rest of this insert that's what I'll be using.

My mother had found him on the floor maybe two weeks prior to this. He was in his bathroom, at his home, and having a heart attack. My mom called paramedics, they came, but no now knew at the time that he was having this mild heart attack. Little did anyone know, even the fucking doctor, he was continuing to have these mild heart attacks throughout the week at the hospital. He had a minor heart surgery done, where they went in just to see what was clogged and what's okay. After the surgery was over we were told he would be fine, and would be able to probably send him home within a few days.

The doctor pressed us to put him in a nursing home, but that's definitely one thing that he would refuse to do.

(Papaw had a major heart attack probably about three years back. He scared everyone, and we were almost sure we were going to lose him. He pulled through and ever since then he hasn't been quite on. He still lived at home, by himself, but his mind has just been slowly slipping since then. He steadily was losing more and more weight over the years too. He was becoming so frail and thin from his prior 200lb stature he maintained for so long. He wasn't healthy.)

So after the surgery he went back to his hospital bed he hated so much waiting for us to take him home. But then all of sudden he took a turn for the worse. He tried to get out of the hospital bed and the nurses found him on the floor struggling. He went to the ICU (intensive care unit) that night. He stayed there for a little while. And then all of a sudden he was put on life support. They took him off, but he couldn't survive for more than an hour. So then he was put on full life support. The breathing tubes down his throat, medicated, one million tubes in him like he's a pin-cushion. Papaw had a living will saying if he was ever in this state to just pull the plug. So that's what we chose to do.

On Friday August 1st, we pulled his life support off around noon, or 12:30 p.m. Me, my mom, and two of his other daughters were there with him when we initially took him off. We were sent out of the room at the time, but then were allowed to come back in. Now previous times I had went to see Papaw, he had been asleep. Never woke up once. However today, he was wide awake. We came back in the room, he got to see us all. I never left his side once. I was holding his hand since the moment I walked in. People came in and out, to say their goodbyes and whatnot.

I felt so bad. I knew he wanted to get out of there. He even wrote a note that week saying "I want to bust out of here." He couldn't stand it at the hospital, so that day we kept saying you'll be home soon. I think he realized what we were doing, letting him go. By the time five or six o clock rolled around it was just my mom and I left in there with him. We both said we wanted to be by his side. I never left once during the day. Every time I let go of his hand he would look at me, and put his hand out for me to hold on to it again. Probably around six, seven he began breathing so hard. His eyes rolled back in his head, and it was like he was holding on for his life. You could see he was struggling, his heart was beating so hard. This continued on until probably eight or nine p.m. I told my mom I was falling asleep and so I stepped out to go get some coffee. As soon as I left, I got a call from my mom saying he had died. I couldn't believe I left at that moment. Despite the fact he had stopped actually holding my hand hours ago, I wanted him to know I was there, and I wasn't.

I think I have this grudge now, against the fact that i told him all day I would be there with him until the end. And then I wasn't. I wasn't fucking there and I am having a really hard time accepting the fact that i can't change that. I knew some of the his children didn't want to be in there, couldn't stand seeing him like that.. but I needed to be in there. I needed to know he went okay, that he knew I was next to him.

We buried him that Monday. Of course, he looked nothing like himself. The funeral was nice. I hated the viewing. All of these people who came who hasn't come around in years. "oh I remember seeing you where you were thiisss high" I didn't care. I didn't care to see any of those people's faces who said they cared so much for him, but has not been around in four or five years. I wanted to yell at all of them to ask him how they felt. To ask if they cared that they missed out on on some of the last years of his life.

Born 8/30/1930
Died 8/01/2008