My evening

You get a call that your Grandpa, who has been in the hospital for over a week, isn’t going to recover this time. That he’s probably going to lose consciousness before the night is over, and likely won’t wake up. That you need to call him to tell him you love him one last time, to say goodbye.

And as your Mom puts the phone up to your Grandpa’s ear, because he’s too weak to hold it himself, you suddenly can’t control your voice or your tear ducts.  You say, “I love you, Papa,” then try not to sob as he replies, “I love you too, sweetie.”   And when you’ve calmed down enough to shape sounds into words, you tell him he’s the best grandpa ever, and then completely lose it when the silence on the phone is followed by your Mom saying, “He’s crying.” 

And as you break down and weep, you contemplate this man, who dozens have compared to John Wayne. This man who built a business out of scratch, boxed with a bear, and caught burglars with the help of your shotgun toting Grandma. This man who stayed true to and raised six kids with said Grandma over more than fifty years of marriage. This man who still speaks of her with the voice and the boast and the look of a lovesick honeymooner. As you contemplate him, lying in a hospital bed, too weak to move, being talked about like a parcel by a man you can hear through the speakerphone, you want to let him know that - though he may be leaving this world on his back, unknown to the world - you always saw him as a giant, standing proudly on long legs with a firm jaw and a twinkle in his eyes. 

But with sobs closing your vocal cords, all you can get out is, “I’ve always boasted about you to my friends,” before speech turns once more to tears, and your Mom takes away the phone, because your Grandpa is too tired to talk anymore. Then, as your sobbing grows erratic, she tries to comfort you from a thousand miles away, but all you want to do is comfort her, because it’s her Dad that’s dying, and you can’t stand the thought that you can’t hug her. 

Yeah. That was my evening. How was yours?