My papaw suffered from dementia since I was young, but it didn’t get bad until they had to put him in a nursing home. I didn’t go and visit unless my parents really made me feel bad, so in a span of 6 years, I probably went 2-3 times. I couldn’t stand the smell. The thought of him having to be there. I couldn’t stand to see him lay there. I know it was selfish, but I couldn’t watch him fade away. I grew up, got married, had a baby, and did try to see him more than I had. I wanted my son to know him. But then the time finally came, that his body was forgetting to work. It was forgetting he was hungry. It was forgetting what taste was, so he didn’t even want to eat. And after being in complete isolation for a year because of the pandemic, they finally let us see him in person, instead of from his window. His hair was long, he had bed sores, and we had found out they had been reusing diabetic needles. It was so heartbreaking. He ended up in the hospital due to heart issues, but they found colon cancer. My dad fought to get him palliative care so he didn’t have to go back to the nursing home. We didn’t care how long it took, we didn’t want him alone and suffering in the end. My dad has had to take care of all decisions, and my mamaws health was poor as well. My heart could barely stand it. I couldn’t let myself cry though because if I did I wouldn’t be able to pull myself together. So I stayed with my dad in the hospital… feeling guilty I hadn’t been there but trying to be there where it counted. At least to just support my family’s grief. But after a day or so, he just slept. He stopped waking up. But he wasn’t crying out for help anymore, he just slept. I couldn’t bare to talk to him with anyone in the room, so as they were changing and rotating him, we all stepped out of the room for awhile. We ate and talked and just stretched our legs. I headed back a little ahead of everyone just to make sure everything was okay… and papaw was laying on his side, hands together under his head. Like a child, he slept, and I lowered myself down and said “its me. We are all back now. You’re not alone, and we are here with you. I love you.” Then he just… stopped. He let out a deep breath and he stopped. My dad and Mamaw had just walked in the room, and I look up at my dad shocked. We called the nurses in and they checked his pulse. It waned, and then stopped. He just went, and it’s like I’d been holding my breath the whole week, but I finally just let it out. I cried. I’d never seen anyone die before. But somehow it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. A man that suffered for years, went to the other side with such peace. It’s like God took this mountain of a man, and made him like a child, and as he slept, the Lord just scooped him up, and that was it. It broke my heart but gave me solace.
It’s almost been a year since, and now my husband is experiencing the same thing with his papaw. I dont know how to help him, but he saw what it was like for my papaw, so he seems broken but has some sort of acceptance about him.
Death is sure, and grief is hard… but it’s something totally different when you have to wait to grieve. A loved one who was gone long ago, but is still here… you can’t grieve the person you lost until they’re gone. And when they finally go… the guilt of relief that washes over you is almost suffocating.
Im grateful I have my God to turn to for comfort, because I truly do not know how someone could bare it without knowing there is more beyond. There is comfort and peace beyond. And if you had been there, you would have seen it for yourself.