My Struggles with the Death of A Hero

My grandfather died on January 1st. Unfortunate genetics punished him the last ten or so years with Alzheimer’s. His suffering also punished my grandmother who proudly stood by his side and cared for him until the day he died. As a fellow retired caregiver, I can understand some of her challenges. Others, I just can’t imagine.

However, instead of being 100% focused on my grandmother in her time of need like I should have been, I was distracted by so many other issues while simultaneously feeling terrible about being distracted.

One thing that just knocked me off center was that neighbors and strangers alike were showing up with support in droves. Some even brought food. Casseroles, chicken, bean dip – you name it, the food was showing up. My grandmother isn’t going to have to cook for weeks. But in the days after Maggie died, no one brought me food.  At least I don't remember anyone bringing me food.  In fact, after the first few days, it seemed like everyone disappeared on me.  I still don’t understand that and it still hurts.

Another thing that kicked me in the stomach were the reminders of stupid stuff that people say when death happens:

“He’s in a better place.” - Yeah, well maybe he liked where he was with my grandmother a whole lot. I know Maggie was pretty darn happy about us being together. She also liked our big plans. WE liked our big plans. Better place now? It’s hard to believe.

“He’s not suffering any more.” - How do you know? Maybe death sucks and it hurts a lot. I know for Maggie it certainly hurt a lot getting to that point. Maybe it gets worse.

“Everything happens according to ‘God’s Plan’” - Oh man, this is always a tough one. So God’s “plan” was for my grandfather to lose his hard-earned lifetime of memories and control of his body while my 90 year old grandmother struggled to feed, bathe and dress her loving husband as he faded farther into oblivion? Or God’s “plan” was that my wonderful wife died just when her life was starting to really blossom but not before she suffered miserably while I watched? This is a plan?!?!

And I could go on…. (I think we all have a list of these little sayings.)

Finally, why wasn't Maggie mentioned in his obituary?  Yes, I know the obituary is supposed to be about him but, damn it, all the other living in laws were mentioned.  Where was my sweetheart?  Does she not count anymore because she died?  As someone who is particularly protective of her legacy, this stinks.

I feel terrible for thinking all these thoughts. His death and celebration of his life is not about me or my sweet wife and it shouldn't be twisted to be made so.  I want to be strong, to be a rock for my grandmother. I want to exemplify what my grandfather taught me: integrity, honor, and respect. Instead, while facing the final stages of a life both long and well lived, I feel weak, selfish and angry. I feel like I've failed both my grandfather and my grandmother.

I try to always close out each of my posts with a bend toward the positive but I’m struggling with this one. Death sucks, even when it can be seen as a “release.” I don’t miss my grandfather any less because he was “released.” I don’t miss Maggie any less because she was “released.” Right now, I’m just angry about both losses, about how people have no clue and how I’m helpless to change anything. I think sometimes some things just suck. Is it ok just to sit with that for a while?

Thankful

(Image from here)

As more holidays pass, like Thanksgiving last week, I find that it’s easier to look beyond my awareness of whose hand I’m not holding while I muscle through myriad family events.  Last week’s holiday marked my fourth national day of thanks that I quietly pondered things I’m really not very thankful for.  All too easily I can reflect back on our last Thanksgiving together: She was fresh off a tough chemo treatment toting around two automated pumps delivering both a slow drip of extended chemo drugs and meds to dull the pain of her worsening condition.  It seems like a different lifetime ago.

Thanksgiving Day I was privilege to share a poignant and unforgettable moment watching my grandmother lovingly spoon-feed my ailing grandfather who, by all accounts, was aware of little other than the gentle pressing of each portion of food into his mouth.  I empathized all too easily with the deep yet staid emotions my grandmother poorly camouflaged with a look of determination.  In her face I saw the reflection of my own memories.  Her humble service to my grandfather was nothing less than a glimpse of a wonderful love story that has played out for generations but is now crawling dolefully through its final chapter.  In those moments witnessing a most lovingly assisted dignity, I felt sadness and anger yet I couldn’t have been more proud of both my grandfather and my grandmother for they truly embodied what Maggie and I aspired to become.  It was heartbreaking and beautiful.

With our wedding vows Maggie and I declared proudly to the world our shared long-term dreams that ended with hearing aids and rocking chairs.  Instead, fate gave us final directives and morphine.  Our moment in time together hand-in-hand certainly didn’t last nearly as long as we planned.  I’d like to believe that if it weren’t for the damn cancer, that one day long, long in the future we would have ended up just like my grandmother and grandfather sharing poignant, loving moments until our last days.

Actually, now that I think about it, I suppose we did exactly that.  Just like my grandmother and grandfather, Maggie and me, we were good together to the end.  I guess that’s a love story, too.

I suppose I have more to be thankful for this Thanksgiving than I thought.