The beginning of some of the toughest days I've faced. Mom woke me up at 6:30 in the morning, so I knew it wasn't good news. I answered and she said "Kristy, you need to get on a plane as soon as possible. And I hope you make it." After I hung up, I layed in bed for a few minutes; absorbing, waking up, preparing myself to deal with what was to come. I jumped out of bed, and went down to start looking at flights for the day. Of course, the wireless network wasn't finding the internet. Ugh. I started to feel frantic and worried. Finally, I got it to work, and started looking. I was somewhere between covering my shift, and calling Sabrina for the ninetieth time trying to get her up to talk to when I realized that the only flight out was at 11:25 in the morning. Only three hours from the current time. And we live an hour away. And I have animals. And how long will I be there? Should I pack funeral clothes? Is it wrong to think of that? Is thinking of funeral clothes like wishing for Pepeir to be dead? I definitely don't ever want that. When I was a little girl, whenever there was a shooting star or I had a birthday wish, I'd wish for Memeir and Pepeir to live forever. And I did that until I was...29? I never told anyone either, for fear that it wouldn't come true. How long should I pack for? Where would the animals go? How will I get to the airport?
And so the stress, and urgency began. And it didn't stop until...maybe tonight (tuesday oct27).
Sabrina called back and said that she and Delmo were on their way. They would drive us to the airport, and go back and get the animals and take out the trash etc. When she arrived, I'd half packed, showered, and was getting ready to get Taylor up. She grabbed Taylor and changed her, prepared breakfast for both of us. She packed us snacks for the airplane ride, and formula for the trip. It was amazing, I wouldn't have made it out of the house on time without her.
The plane ride went really well. On the long trip, from Seattle to Philly, we were lucky to have an aisle seat, and an empty middle seat for lap-riding-Taylor to sit in. The hop from Philly to Salisbury was literally long enough to receive a drink from the flight attendant, change Taylor's diaper, and eat a nutri grain bar. It was only a 45 minute flight. We were in row 8, and that was the second to last row of the plane.
When we arrived, I spotted Dana, Mom, and Michelle through the window. The airport is tiny, so we went inside and greeted everyone and despite the circumstances, it was sort of cheerful. Taylor tends to do that. At this point, I was still hopeful and worried that Pepeir would recover and get bad again and I was contemplating how I would afford another trip back.
I was supposed to go home for Thanksgiving. Seeing Pepeir then meant a lot to me.
On the way to the house was when my denial, or hope was lost. Mom said to prepare myself. I asked some questions. Was he eating through a tube? Was he conscious at all? Would he wake up to speak to us? What really struck me, horrified, scared me was when mom said that they'd stopped feeding him. He was receiving no nourishment, no water. His lungs were filling with fluid and he was on morphine to keep him from flailing about or feeling too much pain. He was not conscious, and would likely not be again.
When I arrived, I saw everyone; but not really. As I came in the back kitchen doors, as usual, I saw him. Or, I saw his bed. It was in the family room. It wasn't his bed from upstairs, as I'd pictured. It was a hospital bed. Everyone was gathered round him. Memeir was sitting next to him, holding his hand, and looking...like she was losing the love of her life. She looked distraught; but wasn't sobbing. She just looked sadder than I've ever seen.
He was thin, frail. But his hair was still so soft as I'd always remembered it. I didn't know what to do. As we entered, someone picked up Taylor. I can't remember who it was. But she saw her Pepeir. She stared at him, with a very somber, almost sad look. Looking at her, you'd think she understood what was going on. For ten or twenty minutes, she just stared at her Pepeir. Maybe she was saying goodbye to him in her head, with her eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I just picked up his hand. His eyes were closed. They told me to talk to him, to tell him we were here. My eyes welled with tears. I was also embarrassed to talk to him. I don't know why; it just didn't seem right. I talked, though. I told him we were here for him and how much we loved him and how much he has always meant to us.
It was difficult. Taylor began to show signs of being tired, so I resigned to put her to bed. I needed a moment to decompress what I had just seen and heard. Everyone was there, Bruce, Bill, Mike, Mom, Cathy, Terry, Dana, Jeremy, Michelle. Pepeir was breathing, like he was sleeping peacefully. Occasionally a strange noise would escape from his throat, or lungs. He seemed in a coma. The room felt different than it always had when I'd been there. The grief and sorrow was everywhere. It was so thick. It choked you. This place, this home, these grandparents. My entire life they were my childhood joy, my stability, my solace, my purity, the definition of unconditional love. This was my nightmare. This was a day I knew would come. This was a day that I dreaded more than any other day I could think of. Ever since I was young, and learned what death was, I had always dreaded the death of my memeir and pepeir. I've cried at night, thinking of it, many times. I've missed them when I was gone, across the country, and felt such separation anxiety that I was almost compelled to stay with them when Adam left...both times. The fear of this day, is like the maytermares. I would be living a regular day, and something would trigger a thought of them dying. And I'd sob, or just be trapped in fear and feel inconsolable. No amount of comforting, or rational logic applied ever made me feel better. I would feel a hollow aching in my chest so painful I thought there was something physically wrong with me. This was a day I never wanted to face...
Upstairs, Taylor was refusing to sleep. I laid up there so long that I got angry, feeling like I was missing precious few hours with Pepeir that I could be downstairs. I called Dana up to lay with Taylor. As I went into the family room, I saw mom listening to Pepeir's chest. I said something awkward, asked some stupied question that no one answered. Then, I swear it, Pepeir smiled. And then he wasn't breathing anymore. Memier wasn't in the room for the first time since we'd arrived. Mom commanded someone to get her immediately. I ran to the stairs and told Dana to come down and bring Taylor.
There, in the family room, with all of us surrounding him, my pepeir died. He. just. stopped. breathing.
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