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August 27, 2007
They Say That These Are Not the Best of Times, But They're the Only Times I've Ever Known
That's from Billy Joel's "Summer Highland Falls," a song that people who love me should study like the Bible.
My grandfather died today. My grandmother was with him. All the children saw him Saturday night, and my father and step-mother showed up minutes after he was gone. I'm so very grateful that I was able to be with him, and her, at the end.
And I believe there is a time for meditation in cathedrals of our own.
Is there such a thing as a good death? MR might say no. Surely, if one had a good quality of life, one would not want to die. But when there isn't quality of life, then there's a time when it's time to let go. With pets, we let them go with dignity, as soon as they start to suffer and can't be saved. With people, we are not so generous. They have to endure days or months or even years before they're allowed to go peacefully on their way.
I'm grateful that my grandfather didn't have to wait too long. And I am so blessed to have been there at the end. I held his hand and said, "You can go now. Kitty will be okay. She's ready for you to go... we'll take care of her."
My grandmother is so strong, so tough. In the end, she was stronger than he was. She's going to live on, for many years. I'm especially grateful for this, cause I feel like there are very few people on earth to whom I will ever be more close. Up at the dining room at the retirement community she was telling folks that I was her twin sister, and you know, people saw the logic to it. "That must have been a long labor!" said one particularly funny resident. They said that I must be related to my grandmother cause I always had a snappy comeback. I just hope that at ninety something I am as pretty as she is, and as sharp.
Today was hard. I didn't get up and go to the gym. Nope, I slept in, then I napped on the downstairs couch with Kieffer. And then I hobbled into work (I did meditate for half an hour) and I got a bunch done. Then I went out to lunch with two co-workers, and as soon as I got back to the office I got the voice mail message that my grandfather had gone. I knew he would, and I was relieved. But it was still hard. I called my step-mother, my dad, my grandmother. They're okay. I'll go down soon for the memorial service.
I had a good breakfast: eggwhites with nonfat cheese, flax oil, brewers yeast, hot sauce.
Good lunch, though out, so not sure on the calorie count: salad with romaine, tomatoes, cucumbers, red peppers, chickpeas, red onion, grilled shrimp, kalamata olives, balsamic vinegar on the side.
Tonight I opened a can of Progresso soup cause I just needed the comfort of food in cans, couldn't deal with cold salad or real food. Had called MR and told him to make his own dinner a few hours before.
Felt bad about eating food in cans, but I'm sorry, Little Miss Perfect is on strike today. It was food in cans or nothing, cause I had bigger fish to fry tonight than organic homemade whatever.
Just past five pm my best friend met me for a drink at the bar across from my house. Jack Daniels and Diet Coke. Again, I reiterate, Little Miss Perfect is on strike. She needed a drink.
Calorie-wise, I'm right on target, but I'm low on calcium in a big way. I'll make up for it tomorrow. Tonight, I've just got to focus on being grateful for my grandfather's life, and grateful that I was there at the very end for him and my grandmother.
"It's a God thing," said my step-mother about the timing of my visit, paying me perhaps the most profound compliment she's ever given me.
Maybe you believe in that kind of thing, maybe you don't. But I know that this weekend, I felt the presence of God in my family, and in the blessing that my grandparents' lives have been to so many people.
This is called Summer Highland Falls:
They say that these are not the best of times
But they're the only times I've ever known
And I believe there is a time for meditation
In cathedrals of our own
Now I have seen that sad surrender in my lover's eyes
And I can only stand apart and sympathize
For we are always what our situations hand us
It's either sadness or euphoria
And so we'll argue and we'll compromise
And realize that nothing's ever changed
For all our mutual experience
Our separate conclusions are the same
Now we are forced to recognize our inhumanity
Our reason coexists with our insanity
So we choose between reality and madness
It's either sadness or euphoria
How thoughtlessly we dissipate our energies
Perhaps we don't fulfill each other's fantasies
And as we stand upon the ledges of our lives
With our respective similarities
It's either sadness or euphoria
Posted by april at August 27, 2007 9:55 PM
Comments
So sorry about your Grandfather.
Thanks for all your efforts--for your family, and for Mprize (and your sharing--I always enjoy your writing).
Posted by: Shannon Vyff at August 27, 2007 8:24 PM
Hi April
Sorry about the loss of your grandfather and thanks for celebrating your grandparents life.
hugs
Arturo
Posted by: Arturo at August 27, 2007 8:56 PM
What you said to your grandfather was so very loving. I believe your courage in speaking those words gave him the courage to leave this life. He died a good death, April. May he rest now in the peace of Christ. Love, JD & FTed
Posted by: Judith at August 27, 2007 9:18 PM
I'm so sorry to hear about your loss, but I'm glad you got to see him one last time. LMP probably needs a lot of comfort, and there are worse things than canned soup.
Hugs,
Emi
Posted by: Emi at August 27, 2007 11:59 PM
Thinking of you at this sad time, April. It's always sad, no matter how they go. Strike all you need to.
Posted by: Sara at August 28, 2007 12:53 AM
(((Hugs)))
Sorry, can't think of anything more profound to say. But I do know how you feel. And you definitely need hugs.
Posted by: Lindsay at August 28, 2007 2:50 AM
It is so important to have been there, for him and for you.
My condolences to you and and your family.
Deborah
Posted by: Deborah at August 28, 2007 5:37 AM
Thanks so much to all of you for your kind words. It's wonderful to have such a loving online community.
april
Posted by: april at August 28, 2007 6:25 AM
"..a song that people who love me should study like the Bible."
Wow... are you taken with yourself!
"Summer, Highland Falls" is a great song... if you're 16 years old.
Posted by: Trisha at August 28, 2007 6:42 AM
That line is actually a paraphrase of a line in the book "The Rules," I was wondering if anyone would catch it. Apparently not.
Trisha, may I ask you a question? Why do you feel called upon to write such a nasty comment? I don't believe we've met. I see no reason why you would want to darken my day, which obviously was already dark enough before your comment. Could you offer some insight into why you, and perhaps people like you (though I'm sure you can't speak for all blog trolls) write nasty comments on others' blogs?
I do hope that at least your writing a nasty comment on my blog made you feel good, if only for a moment, before you went back to doing whatever it is you usually do when you're not writing nasty comments on my (or others') blog.
Many thanks,
April
Posted by: april at August 28, 2007 7:48 AM
Don't let 'em get you down, April. I am sorry for your loss.
Posted by: Yvonne at August 28, 2007 10:21 AM
April, I am so, so sorry for your loss. Though I only know you via your blog, my heart goes out to you for sure.
And as for Trisha: taking underhanded swipes at people via blog comments probably seems like great fun... if you're 16 years old. Ahem.
Posted by: Rachel at August 28, 2007 11:09 AM
I know I'm a little late to posting, but I wanted you to know I'm feeling for you as well. My grandma passed recently, and it's always hard, even if you're mentally prepared for it.
Love,
Amy
Posted by: Amy Wright at August 28, 2007 2:08 PM
April,
I just showed Grandmother your last couple of blogs on her computer. I think they meant a lot to her. I'm am so blessed to have her for my mother and you for my daughter.
Love, Dad
Posted by: Dad at August 28, 2007 3:06 PM
Hi April
As a regular reader of your blog I would like to send my condolences. You will always have many wonderful memories of an extraordinary man to comfort you.
Linda
Posted by: Linda at August 28, 2007 4:36 PM
So sorry April. Get MR to give you even more hugs than usual today. I don't know about a good death, but your grandfather was certainly a good man and died well. He left your family in a way that made things as easy as they could be. You'll always have your memories of him.
It will be harder on your grandmother than you expect. It always is.
Posted by: Little MR at August 28, 2007 6:39 PM
April, I'm so sorry for your loss. My deepest sympathies to you and your family.
Posted by: Zana at August 28, 2007 7:12 PM
April,
I've already sent you my sympathies. I just want to remind you that there are many more good people out there than there are "Trisha"-types. Don't let the trolls bug you.
Hugs,
R
Posted by: Robin at August 28, 2007 8:49 PM
My sincerest condolences.
I'm also grieving because of a sudden death in my immediate family, so I feel your pain.
Take comfort that your grandfather touched many lives for the good and made the world a better place. I think that's all we can ask for in the end.
Posted by: Gregg at August 30, 2007 10:11 AM