I guess you can correlate that to the men in my family, who,
like me, lead a life of modesty; who will put the emotions and thoughts of
family, loved ones, and friends before themselves. One of those men, my
grandfather, Grampy Al, passed away this last Tuesday. Like the man he was, he
did it quietly, with his son by his side.
At his funeral, the Rabbi asked if any family would want to say a few words. I could not. I was too caught up in my emotions, attempting to process it all. I still am. But, my words tend to work better via ink and word processor, rather than vocally. So, here it is.
Though his body and mind was getting
weak with age well before he was diagnosed with cancer just over four months
ago, he was so strong at heart. The diagnosis came when a fall and bad gouge in
the head led to a trip to the emergency room of Centre State Hospital, which
led to a less than random full-body scan. I remember sitting with my mother and
father in their bedroom when she got the phone call. I remember hearing him the
through the phone. He didn’t want to go through the treatment. He was 81. Maybe
he somehow knew his body wouldn’t be able to handle it. But, we were adamant.
He could make it through this. He could live for 1 year, 5 years, even 10
years. The months to follow were grueling. It was soul crushing. As a man who
struggles with chronic anxiety, it destroyed me on the inside – watching not
one, but both of my grandparents struggle physically and mentally with severe
ailments; watching my mother, caring for them, putting life on the back-burner
to tend to their every need. But, I did my best to remain humble. I had my
moments with close friends, but I kept most of it to myself, as I’m not one to
make my pain felt by those around me.
Without getting into too much detail, the four months to
follow was a downhill slope. There was hope, of course, there had to be. Hope
that if he could just make it through the treatments, and heal, and get
stronger, that we could beat this. But that wasn’t meant to be. I watched his
body and his mind wither away. But he was still my Grampy. He is still my
Grampy.
Again, the details of the weeks, days, and hours leading to
his passing are not something I want to, or probably should share on the very
public internet. I will say that, as slow and as crushing as it was to witness
what happened – it happened so quickly. Quicker than we honestly expected it
too.
I was at angry at God. For a moment, I questioned his very
existence. Why would God do this to my family, time and time again over the
couple years? How could God put a good man, an honest, humble, caring, loving,
family man through the pain and suffering that he went through, even well before
his diagnosis? How could God watch my Grandmother, also very sick, emaciated, and
laying in a bed in a rehab center, watch her cry and scream for hours, and
days, after we told her that her husband of 56 years had left her. Maybe God
didn’t, as there isn’t one to do that.
But, then, beginning with the hour-long road trip to the cemetery,
and the days to follow, I knew my thoughts weren’t true. God does exist. He was
in the cloudless, blue sky over our heads as we laid my grandfather to rest. He
was in the trees, and the wind that blew through them. He was in the words of
my Rabbi, as he said the most comforting, thoughtful speech about my beloved
Grampy. He was in my family, who came together; who cried on each other’s
shoulders; who held each other’s hands; who laughed and listened with awe of
stories about what we’ve been up since last we saw each other. And I saw it in
my Grampy, who is no longer in pain, no longer needing a walker, or help off
the chair, or suffering the way he was these last few weeks.
I’m not sure if it’s an unfortunate truth or a blessing –
but, even though we are in mourning, life does not stop. We all have jobs to
get back to; schooling, friends, spouses, loved ones. There is no pause button
for life, even in a time such as this. The road ahead will not be an easy one. My
family has been hit hard these last few months, as well as in years past. And
we still have my grandma, who, though is getting a little stronger each day,
has a long journey ahead of her, physically and emotionally. And we, as a
family, must be right by her side every step of the way.
Yes, life must go on. And, while my thoughts and emotions
are in a proverbial rollercoaster, I think I have a pretty good grasp of what
matters most. And though my road to emotional normalcy is far from over, I have
learned a lot. This tragedy has knocked certain things into perspective for me.
I am sorry that it has taken a death for that to happen. I am ready to do
things that I have been afraid to do for so long – to love again, to pursue
what I have longed to.
Lord knows I could go on. I could continue in great detail
as to what happened these last few months, or my emotional turmoil during it.
And I’m sure I will, in time. Thank you all for taking the time to read this.
Thank you to my friends and loved ones who have sent their
love and condolences. It has helped more than I could possibly express.
And thank you, Grampy, for all that you’ve given and taught
me. Sleep well.
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