The long good-bye

Grandpop died Saturday morning. It wasn’t unexpected – after all, he was 93 but the phone call still came as a bit of a surprise. I tried to act like nothing was wrong but Darling Daughter caught me crying.

DAUGHTER: Why are you crying?

DMG: Mommy is just sad today.

DAUGHTER: But why?

It’s not that I didn’t want to tell her – I just would have preferred to be able to pull myself together first. She was insistent.

DMG: Your great grandpop, Pop Pop’s daddy, died today and it makes mommy sad. But mommy is also happy because he is now with Jesus in heaven and with Grandma. He missed Grandma a lot.

She gave me lots of hugs and kisses and then like a true Lutheran said,

DAUGHTER: Do you want something to eat?

That made me smile. Food and grief go hand-in-hand.

More about Grandpop…

Grandma died in 2001 from Alzheimer’s. The last few years of her life, Grandpop sat with her every waking moment, holding her hand. Long hours were spent together in silence. She was unable to communicate with him except through grunts and gestures but he continued to visit her every day, all day, for as long as the nursing staff allowed. It was the single, most powerful act of love and devotion I’ve ever personally witnessed. He sacrificed his own mental acuity by spending so much time with her.

When she died, he was heartbroken….lost. They had been married 63 years but had been together for much longer than that. They met in the first grade and grew up together.

The week before the funeral he kept forgetting she was gone and had to be reminded. For some reason, I was usually sitting next to him so it was up to me to tell him.

DMG: Grandma went home to be with the Lord, remember? She isn’t in any more pain. We’re going to say good-bye to her on Saturday.

He would cry all over again and I would hold his hand and stroke his wispy hair. This went on for several days – several times a day.

The morning of the funeral I was sitting across from him at breakfast. Suddenly teary-eyed he looked up from his breakfast and asked, “Is today Saturday?” Fighting back my own tears I told him, ‘yes.’ More handholding, more comforting.

The last six years he’s lived in his own little world, pretending Grandma was still alive, talking about her in the present tense. Early on, we tried to correct him but gave up after he became angry with us. As long as he didn’t try to go to her old room in the nursing home, we figured what harm was it.

The long good-bye is over. He is home with his Lord and Savior and I can only imagine the joyous reunion he had with Grandma.

No more tears.