So, if you dont want to be brought down... just look at the photos.
But this is my blog, dammit, and I choose to share my personal tragedies and blessings as well as my art.
My grandpa, age 73, has chosen to go home (from the hospital) and die. Without his dialysis, he will fill up with fluid and his organs will fail. He, and my grandmother, have raised me since I was 6 months old. He is the closest thing to a father that I have.
Everyone will die, yes... I know, I know. And I dont want my Papa to suffer...
But how can I possibly wrap my head around this so that it's okay?
I feel paralyzed. I haven't slept well for days. I should have gone today, but can't seem to force myself to go to class. Creating art hasn't distracted me for more than 15 minutes at a time, and I can't put my heart into it.
I will see him later today, still in the hospital. I want to be strong, but then again, I just want to break down, throw my arms around him and beg him to keep trying. Change your mind, Papa. Don't give up, Papa. Please, please don't give up... I need you to stay alive.
But goddamn it, how selfish is that?
I feel tangled up and all alone.
_________________________
Sylvie Blum. From our second shoot.
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10 comments:
Thank you for being here and being your wonderful self. My thoughts are with you. I do understand how difficult what is happening is for you. Be strong. And cry.
When quality of life has deteriorated to the point of feeling better about letting go, it is always hard on others but best for the person involved.
And it is selfish that we want them to remain miserable in order for us to keep them around a bit longer.
That didn't sound quite like I had meant to imply it, but I think you know me well enough that I don't have to attempt to re-write it to make it sound more palatable.
The worst thing you can do it make him feel guilty about his decision. He just want to be done with it all. Make him comfortable and happy, not going out feeling guilty.
And I am only a phone call away.
You've been living mostly without his guidance for a while now. As I always say, you're stronger than you know.
Of course the emotional connection you two have is what you're really referring to, I'm guessing.
Celebrate his life. It must have been good; you're in it.
You aren't alone. Believe it or not, I'm here for you (and can try to be THERE for you) selflessly and unconditionally, if ever you want or need it.
ok! I have never seen with my two eyes a modal with your amazing grace! it simply B E A U T I F U L!!! I can truly say that I am a BIG FAN! thank you for being so OUTSTANDING!
Never a problem, and your friends are nearer than you think, so when you need to cry you know who to call.
It is quite honorable what you are doing and openly caring. I didn't have a relationship like this and hearing it from you gives insight to things I never knew. Pain is what it is and well, you know my bit about the empath.
Thank you for letting me inside. I am reading, and it is hoped, learning something from you on your page. Not to mention seeing your pretty pictures, as well.
Brooke, as others have said, you are not alone...not alone in the sense we are here as your friends...not alone in the sense some of us have shared similar situations.
It is only a relative thing, but 73 is way too young! My father died at 78, and I had expected him - based on his strong will and heredity - to live much, much longer. He died suddenly and unexpectedly, doing heavy labor against doctor's orders. I could not believe his strong spirit did not intervene and keep him with here. He had taught me the mind can command the body.
He came to me in a dream a few months later. He was dancing (he was a great dancer) and said, "How'd you like the way I got out of that one, kid?" It was exactly what he would have said to me, in his own way of phrasing, so I have always believed it was his strong spirit letting me know he was overjoyed to be done with life and to have left it without prolonged suffering. He was quite verbal about not wanting that.
When I think of his death, I am filled with joy - for him. For me, I will live the rest of my life missing him something awful but with eternal gratitude he was in my life.
Celebrate your grandfather's decision and, as e-string said, celebrate his life. It must have been good; you're in it, and he had something to do with how good you are.
We can only offer platitudes, but our words are platitudes because they are true and so often spoken.
I'm so sorry to hear that. There's not much I can do to comfort you, but I wish I could.
It's a tough debate. As you would in any state of health, cherish the time with him.
"In endowing us with memory, nature has revealed to us a truth utterly unimaginable to the unreflective creation, the truth of immortality....The most ideal human passion is love, which is also the most absolute and animal and one of the most ephemeral."
George Santayana
"Nothing can be meaner than the anxiety to live on, to live on anyhow and in any shape; a spirit with any honor is not willing to live except in its own way,"
George Santayana
"There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. The dark background which death supplies brings out the tender colors of life in all their purity."
George Santayana
1863-1952, American Philosopher, Poet
All you can do is love him now as you always have.
Honor his spirit by accepting his decision.
As you reflect on the life you have shared in your part of his 73 year interval know that his spirit and love for you will not die with him. But will live on within you in the colors he began infusing in your life ever since that six month old came into his life to live.
Is or will this be easy? No. Death of a loved one never is. It's ok to be strong. It's ok to break down.
A small comfort is to know it is his choice. He got to pick how the end comes. It's a luxury few get in today's medical care mentality of trying to keep a person to live on and on, to live on anyhow and in any shape. Without regard to the way the patient feels or wants.
D.L. Wood
Warm hugs
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