Atlantic City for me has been called off. A call from hospice saying that family members should stay close. Everytime the phone rings now, we look at each other, hoping this isn't the last call.
You think you are prepared but not really. The family has known for a while that grandpa was going to die. The experts said he had till the summer. The experts didn't know grandpa. Grandpa is a Man. I knew that there was no way he was leaving this earth until everyone, especially grandma, was taken care of. Since we found out the diagnosis, he had sold his house, re-done my aunts house, moved in with her, made sure grannnie has no financal needs ever again and kept a promise to see a grandson graduate from boot camp. All this with pain. Enough pain at times to cause tears in his eyes.
He was the main reason me and my family moved back home. He was a rock in my life and you could always count on him to be there. I am very close to my mother and my father but they split and eventually divorced when I was thirteen. So over the years there was a lot of firsts with grandpa. We shared my first bike, fish, mini-bike and go-cart. He loved to hunt, so my first BB-gun, pistol, rifle and shotgun experience came from him. My only new car I ever owned came with his help. Then he preceded to teach me how new cars are a waste of money and I have never had one since.
My visits now have gone from once a week to once a day. He is getting to much for grannie to handle. Today finding him across the house when I got there and too tired to get back to his room. We walked together back to his bed, all the time talking about something. With all the drugs, you never really know where his mind is anymore. When we got to his bedside he looked at me and said thanks. No grandpa, Thank You.
I am closer to 40 than 30 now. Hell, I'm closer to 40 than 35 now. I have my own family and responsibilities. I can only hope that we my time comes, I will be half the man he is.
Till Next Time!