My drinking buddy did get to come home, but not the way that I imagined.
Granddaddy died at home last night at approximately 9:15 pm. I was the last person he talked to and I was with him when he died. It was traumatic for me, but at the same time, it was a blessing that he got to be at home and that we were together at the end.
His mind was as sharp as could be until the very end. We were looking at the IV bag in the hospital, and he told me that he worked on a boiler one time for the company that makes IV bags. There are only two of those companies in the US (or there was at that time). They had three boilers and wanted to get a fourth. That led Granddaddy to tell me that the stuff that toothpaste is made from starts as sand.
In that moment, I realized just how smart he really was. It's not that I didn't think he was smart before, it's just that I just realized how much he knows about a lot of stuff, and how amazing it was that he could recall all of those details, even in the condition he was in.
Today I told my cat that he was so spoiled, that if a flea bit him, he'd spit. That was something Granddaddy often told our dog Abby. And lately he got a chuckle out of the fact that she would lick him on the top of his bald head if she got in bed with him in the morning.
Today has been a long day with lots of friends and relatives stopping by. Much repetition of what happened. This morning I was looking at an old photo album that included Uncle Clyde and Aunt Ruth's 50th wedding anniversary and their family members. Today, one of their daughters, Patsy, stopped by with her husband, Richard. Something in that visit just struck me - of times and people past and how much I miss and will miss Granddaddy being here in this place. It also struck me that I've never considered Dad, Aunt Rie, and Uncle Scott apart from Granddaddy before. Now they are on their own.
Dad also had a hard day today and he has held up pretty well. He went to Ryan's, made arrangements for the memorial service, went to Honey's grave to take a picture of her marker so they could get a matching one for Granddaddy, and he made the difficult trek to the Sand Mountain nursing home where Granddaddy visited friends every Friday morning. He had to break the bad news to two people there. He felt it was better than letting them read the news in the paper.
I miss him so much. It feels like there is someone missing from every meal. A quiet house that one had noise. I imagined that I heard his shuffling step on the carpet this morning. I miss you so much, Granddaddy. I'm glad you're not in pain and will see you again someday.
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