if i could spend my days free from the prison of your gates, i could die a happy man
i want my grandfather to die.
i want my grandfather to die, because i know if he were aware of the state he’s now in, he would want to be dead. he who owned a gun and would nonchalantly talk about using it against himself, can no longer manage a steak knife. he who took such pride in his perfect posture and thick black hair, has crumpled in on himself. he who piloted the plane that was my very earliest memory, and prized his freedom above all else, is locked behind safety doors. he who spent his life as a chemical engineer, can no longer tie his shoes. he who never wanted to be a burden on his family, is legally incompetent of mind and infirm of body. those essential things that made him the man he was so proud to be, have been torn away from him – and if he could have, he would have gone down fighting tooth and nail to go out with them. he is no longer aware of who he once was – but who he once was would rather die, than be who he is now.
i want my grandfather to die because at this present moment, he is happy. because i know that the path which lies ahead only becomes more distressing and debilitating. because i know there is no kind or peaceful ending for this cruel disease, there are no mercies. for right now, he is happy in his simple way. singing music, eating food, retelling times half-remembered, relaxing into a soft touch. but i know full well, that this will not last – there is future fear and sickness that i only wish he could be spared. he is happy because he knows none of this.
i want my grandfather to die because it’s killing my mother. it’s killing me to watch my mother lose her father in a thousand tiny moments, eroded memory by cherished memory, dignity by precious dignity. it’s killing me to see her try to be strong as he grows ever frailer. it’s killing me to watch her try to hold on to a ghost. it’s killing me to watch her watch him vanish in front of her eyes. it’s killing me to watch her see herself one day in his shoes.
i want my grandfather to die because the reasons i have for wanting him to live are so selfish, so cowardly. it’s me who is worried about grief and the avoidance of pain. it’s me who can’t bear the sadness that he no longer remembers me. it’s me who is too weak to watch him shuffle off for a diaper change, to watch him eat his meals with his fingers, to watch him become more childlike each time i visit. it’s me who can’t stand it when i feel his papery hand in mine, when i tuck his thinning hair behind his ears, when i tell him i love him and he says “i love you” back, not knowing who i am. it’s me who is too scared of a time when he can’t say it back. i want my grandfather to die because i cannot cope with the process of losing him. the steady, irreversible loss that wears away at my heart.
i don’t want my grandfather to die – but he is dying. i don’t want my grandfather to die. but my grandfather – strong, fiercely independent, pilot, engineer, devoted husband, proud father – is long gone.
shelter for my soul – bernard fanning
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
Like this post
Comment by Noble Savage
6.10.2009 @ 15:24 pm
I don’t know if I can string together a cohert commentary on this because I could’ve written your post, word for word, nearly three weeks ago. And then my grandfather DID die.
I was relieved for him but sad for my father who, even though he had been losing his own father bit by bit for years, still took news of his death very hard. I wish I could say more than that but it’s all still too fresh.
I hope your grandfather, and your entire family, find peace and comfort soon.
Comment by Dave
6.10.2009 @ 18:32 pm
while I understand your point and what you are trying to say, I do not share that desire. Has life changed for him? Yes. Has life changed for us, and how we interact with him? Yes. Is he the same as he was 3, even 2 years ago? No. But just because life is different, does not mean it is not worth living. Does he go for football, now, on Sundays at his Grandson’s house? Yep. Has he helped in said Grandson’s recovery from some past issues? Yep. Definately. Summertime BBQ’s on my deck? Yes. Enjoying my wedding, even though he maybe doesnt quite remember everything about everybody? YES! My point is, life may not be the same, and may be sad to some folks, it is still his life and he is still living it the best he can. Never mind the fact that seeing him keep on keeping on, even though life is tough for him is an inspiration to us all, on all sorts of different levels. He has changed. We ALL change. Life ain’t a skip down the yellow brick road with butterflies flying everywhere. Life sucks sometimes. But it is still life, which is precious, no matter what. I will be sad when he is gone, but will continue to enjoy the time we have left….and will help him do the same.
Comment by Your Sister
6.10.2009 @ 21:41 pm
nicely stated, david.
Comment by Jen
6.10.2009 @ 22:38 pm
i’m not trying to be flippant. for me, the overwhelming feeling is that *he* would not want this for himself. i know that for a fact. and as sad as that makes me, i can understand it.
i also do not want him to suffer, or to become terrified and miserable, as a lot of people with alzheimers do in the next stage. that’s no way to live.
he has lived a fantastic life, and just a few years ago was talking about only living to 93 (the age his mother died) and being ready to die. he said that in a very matter of fact way, and i know he had absolutely no regrets.
i don’t actively wish for him to die… but i want him to have a quick, peaceful and painfree death when he does. a good death. he deserves that… and i worry that will be less likely to happen in the future as he becomes more infirm.
if he were to die now, i would be heartbroken of course… but okay with it. because i want for him as good a death as he had a life.
i’m sorry if that upsets you both.
Comment by A Free Man
6.10.2009 @ 23:48 pm
I know what you mean. I felt the same way when my Grandfather started to really go downhill. He wouldn’t have wanted to live that way. He was too full of life and laying in a bed, decaying and dying, was not who he was.
I’m grateful that after it became clear that it was just a waiting game that there were some nods and heads turned and morphine and peace for the man. I’m glad my family was able to make that decision. And I hope that if ever I’m in the same position (either of family or Grandfather) that the same decision is available.
Comment by dave
6.10.2009 @ 23:52 pm
understood…I know where you are coming from…I wanted to make the point his influence, love, and companionship is something that continues to influence us…
Comment by blues
17.10.2009 @ 16:08 pm
Oh, you know I understand.