In Loving Memory

 Monday March 26th, at 2:31 pm…my Grandpa released his 5-year battle over cancer as they slowly weaned him off of the medications that appeared to be his life-support.
    Given that I wasn’t able to make it in time… I will let my imagination pilot me through his last few minutes and based upon the details from my family who was present, I envision a portrait of true love. A love that God has set apart from any other form of human emotion; a love strong enough to say goodbye.
    I see a hospital room, the typical blue and white with a hint of gray. At this moment of my imaginative conception I feel shameful and helpless, wishing and wanting to wrap him up in warmth and take him home, but wait, it’s midday. The sun is shinning and his bed is alongside the window. He is facing the clouds and begins to realize he will be home soon.
    I can see his eyes fiercely traveling the room, mindful of every single person that is beside him, that has always been beside him. I see the nurse come in every couple of minutes to check on him to see how he’s doing. All of my uncles give her full reports, remaining calm on the surface, but bleeding on the inside. I look over at Grandma, holding Grandpa’s hand, with her hands so soft and delicate, reaching over his bedside to comfort and ease his fears.
    The grand kids rally around, exposed to the numb feeling of knowing this is it. This is the end. Uncle Dave brings David Anthony to his bedside and tells him “Grandpa is going to sleep now, so give him a goodnight kiss.”
    As Grandpa’s time here on Earth slowly dwindles down, he is fully aware of all who are in the room, he says goodbye to each loved one and then says, “One more.”
    When Aunt Linda told me he kept saying “one more” I was confused.
    A typical stage of cancer adversely affects the brain and causes it to lose memory; a phase that thankfully never took much of a toll on Grandpa.
    As a clear indication that his memory was intact, and that he was entirely cognizant of every individual who was in that hospital room with him, he remembered there was just one more. One more piece of his family puzzle that was missing, my dad.
    Grandpa knew this was the end of his journey. Although he desired to pass away at his home, the magnitude of love and empathy that room was flooded with may as well be the most paramount and special departure.
    I love you Grandpa. I’ll be seeing you.