My Grandfather's Death

Two years ago, my grandfather passed away.  He died while having multiple strokes and succumbing to fluid in his lungs.  I imagine it to have been painful, like the brain exploding in a flood of nightmarish headaches, while suffocating-ly drowning (the same way Jesus expired on the Cross).  I remember my grandmother in the room crying, persistently telling her husband that she loves him.  My dad was there.  He kept telling his father that he was doing an amazing job.  This was a family legacy.  My grandfather had taught me to blow my nose.  When I learned to clear my nose with a single forceful blow, he would congratulate me the same way.  My dad used this same method when anyone in our family was sick and vomiting.  It doesn't sound like a very comforting to hear, that you are doing a good job blowing your nose, expelling your innards into a toliet bowl, or passing away, but it is probably the second most comforting thing my Dad has said to me (after telling me that he loves me).

At one moment, when my grandmother, father, and uncle were all in the room cheerleading on my grandfather to heaven it struck me.  Like a scene out of a flashback from a Da Vinci Code-style movie, it hit me.  Here in this cramped, smelly, tired room was three generation of men.  The Patriarch was accompanied by the matriarch, in pure royalty.  To his bedside, were his two loyal sons, the heirs of his name and the secured future protection of his wife.  At the foot of the bed was his only grandson, a symbol of hope to the future that someone will live on his name: in the past, at the present, and into the future.

While my mind's eye tried to paint a Michelangelo style funeral parade to heaven, I saw the world completely.  My grandfather was English.  We have had a proud history of hard working family members that make up our clan.  This man was no on the opposite side of the world of his relatives.  He had very few family members to meet in the afterlife here in America.  This moment was the American dream coming to fruition.  Here a man from poverty of the most desperate time in America had raised a family, served in the armed forces in its greatest hour of need, had battled a crippling chronic disease his entire life, and now, in a moment usually reserved for Kings, he was battling his body to peace.

I felt terrible for lacking the vision to see the moment but these thoughts rushed through my mind, as if he were passing his life through my own eyes.  I saw everything up to this moment, and in that time, I felt a great amount of joy, pride, and wisdom. 

I know my dad was terribly hurt by the loss of his father.  Despite being angry at my own father a lot of the time, I love him so much.  He represents a lot of the essence of man that I have never felt.  I can always count on him to be consistent, and I am excited for every time he enjoys his own life.  I only hope, that on my own father's deathbed, that I can deliver to him all the love and support that he has given me.

My grandfather was very wise when he grew with his age.  His catch phrase was "whatever."  He had a way of getting along with anyone and getting over anything.  I hope to have a tenth as much patience, love, and understanding that he showed.