Limbo

I've never been good with goodbyes.  Death is the ultimate goodbye.

As of now, I'm in limbo.  My grandpa has been fairly sick for the past few years, really sick for a few months, and in the hospital for the past week.

My sister, parents and I went to visit him in the hospital this past weekend.   My aunt was in the process of packing up the stuff in his apartment (he hasn't lived there for the fast few months because he couldn't get up the flight of stairs), and was showing us pictures and reading tidbits of articles and interviews she'd found.  He was in and out of consciousness, but appreciated our company.  I could tell he was trying to not let us see how much pain he was in.

I'm glad I saw him, but it was scary to see him looking so old and scared and sick. It was hard to not get visibly upset during the visits. I don't know how some people do it.

Yesterday, he was doing better (which isn't that good at this point), with the possibility of leaving the hospital and going to a skilled nursing facility.

But, as a once dignified, grown adult, who now wears diapers and gets spoon fed and is in horrible pain in most parts of his body, he finally decided he didn't want to do it anymore. As of this morning, he decided to stop dialysis (the process that filters your blood when your kidneys don't work).  Now, he's laying in a hospital bed, sedated, until he dies of whichever one of his ailments decides to take him first. Probably "tonight or tomorrow," said my mom.

The inevitable hasn't happened yet, but it's...inevitable. It's impossible not to think about the fact that "tonight or tomorrow," I won't have any living grandparents left, but also, at this point, passing is the only thing that will relieve him from all the pain a suffering. Limbo is the hardest part. Waiting for the end.

Today I watched the sun set, marking the end of the day and the end of a month. And the end of a life.  Since I'm not one to procrastinate, goodbye grandpa. I love you, and I hope wherever you go next is better.