Last Requests.

I’m feeling pretty darn emotional tonight.

I just got back from seeing my grandfather.

Brother and I brought dinner over. Lasagna. One of his faves. And an ice cream pie.

He has a big sweet tooth … I definitely get that from him.

During dinner, his hospice aid called to speak with us.

Yesterday when she was over, she asked my grandfather if there was one last request he had.

Yes.

To take our (step) grandmother out to dinner in a limousine, with champagne and flowers, ending with a drive through the city they love so much.

I wasn’t prepared. For my reaction. For her sharing this with me. And most of all, for the tears that instantly began to fall.

Could we help make this happen?

Of course. How can one not adhere to a final request? Especially from a loved one.

I sat there in the bathroom for a long time after our phone call. Thinking how suddenly everything looked and felt different.

Had I noticed the chip in the tile, upper left hand corner before? All the times as a child I took a bubble bath in that tub, and it’s just now that I’m seeing it.

Maybe this is what the end of life does: seeing things in technicolor.

I kept trying to compose myself. To think of something funny. To not feel sad, because this occasion shouldn’t be … I’m so thankful to be a part of making this happen for him, and spending all these afternoons and evenings with him.

I guess tonight it finally hit me — just how much I’m going to miss him when he’s gone.

There’s such a support in grandparents that only they give … you can f up time and time again and do the stupidest things, yet they love you. They always think you’ re the most amazing thing. Ever.

Eventually, I pulled myself together — enough to return to the dinner table.

I had to avoid looking at my grandfather. One look from him and I knew I’d lose it.

The remainder of dinner was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to sit through. Part of me wanted to get up and get the f out of there as quickly as possible.

Suddenly I felt like I couldn’t be there with him, nor did I want to be. I didn’t want another moment to add as memories and “remember when” stories.

Yet the other part of me wanted to stay there all night. Not wanting to miss this little bit of time that remains.

It truly is the small things in life … I see so clearly now how these are the most important.

Just look at what the one thing is my grandfather wants: an evening out.

Something we do so frequently. Amazing how significant that becomes when you think of it as the last time …

How I do hold onto this? Keeping this feeling of wonder and joy of family dinners, of being able to laugh and even watch mindless tv with those I love.

I don’t want to forget. Him. This. Any of it.

I feel like I’m reaching out, trying to hold on, but there’s nothing to hold on to.

Because life is about letting go. Even when you’re not sure how to.

 

 

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