I wake in the morning knowing; I am different today, with kind of a question mark at the end? I wonder what is so different about today? I take mental note of my body, I can feel me joints bending smoothly like they were oiled just a minute ago with some bacon grease. My blood feels though it is moving as efficiently through the body with the easy pulse of a jellyfish. I can feel all major meridians in order and flowing properly. I am well.
I spring out of bed and run to the shower thinking how glad I am I woke up the extra five minutes earlier for a hot shower! What a great morning. For no reason at all should I feel so good. I am busy nine to nine, by all rights this should be a miserable morning…but no. I am in an extremely positive mood and feel energy abound.
Stepping out of the shower I experience the forbearing to set my mental alarm five minutes earlier as to catch the early train and have a few minutes to relax before rushing to class. I take a mental not and give myself a pat on the back for thinking about it. We are off to a good start Jesse, what an excellent day! The phone rings, unrecognized number? “Hey this is Johnny, got your message, yah you can come in whenever you want.” “Excellent! Will this Wednesday be fine?” “Sounds good.” I hang up. I am rejoicing to myself, after two months of background checks and problems, finally I have it!” Finally out of my old job and into a new.
I pedal my bicycle to the light rail, snow wet and thick on this day. I like to think of myself as a connoisseur when it comes to the shitty biking conditions. I get to the train not only In time but with six minutes to spare. I score this as a small victory for myself on this day of positivity, I begin thinking of the great things that have happened only in the past hour that I have been awake.
The phones familiar buzz still startles me after millions of call. It is my dad.
“Hey Jess, talked to Nana today and they have gramps in the hospital, they think he is going to be gone by the end of the day.” I am speechless, I had thought he had several more months a- least, at least that is what they said two days ago. “Can you meet me on campus?” “Most definitely, see you in ten minutes.”
I am in shock, I start to zone out into my own thoughts, thinking about memories of him. The couple across from me look so happy, what an interesting day. Unable to control myself I am dazing only half aware of what is going on around me until I hear the startling call for “Colfax at Auraria.”
Dad and I arrive at the hospital, I am wondering how he will react seeing his father die. The room is somewhat tense I am a little bit nervous. Gramps looks gaunt and pale. His usual rosy cheeks are ashen grey. The typical jolly laugh is replaced with a breath that sounds gargled through threw water. In the room are other family members, only seven at this point. The matriarch of our family has always prided herself on the grand size of her family, she is known to brag and during this day put several nurses through the introductions and relations of all 30 plus people that were there.
We spend hours doing cycles. Holding his hand while sitting next to him, telling stories with lots of crying then into the dining area to take an emotional break and try to laugh about something. It is amazing for all these family members to be together at one place and time, this has become less and less frequent as our families grow older. On this day we are all appreciative of each other and the love is felt by everyone. This is the way Gramps would have like it, all his family with him and sharing with each other.
People start to cycle to the hallway and our grandmother looks stressed. More than stressed she looks like she is in some other mental state than her own, something wild and scary. She looks extremely scared. She ask Me and another to “come, you haven’t sat next to gramps, come here and sit next to gramps, yah just hold his hand Jesse, there yah go.” I am worried for her mental health, she seams to be on the limit of imploding.
Sitting Next to him he looks so small. It is striking how small and emaciated he looks. A man that Is know as “Jolly” and is commonly mistaken as Santa Clause has never looked so small. I hold his hand and feel his pulse. They said his breathing would become irregular just before his heart stops. In and out like it took more exertion than I have ever seen him do in his life, always gurgling. The nurse adjust the bed more upright “to drain his chest” she says. What an evil thing this cancer that can do something so horrible to a person. A man that has done so much good in the world come to such an end is outside of my understanding.
Across the gurney from me is my cousin Jordan, whom I grew up with and was best friends for the majority of my childhood. With each of us in contact with each other, holding hand I want to reach out to his, I want to tell him I love him and what a great friend he is. I think against it for now, we are both sobbing quietly and don’t feel I could say anything understandable at the moment.
Gramps jumps, his eyes open wide after being shut for so long. His gaze is far off and distant. I note at this time that it looks like he is peering into the white gates of Heaven and is completely awestruck by it. I holding his hand gently squeezing it, I feel the slightest of squeezes in return. Gasping he takes an aggressive inhale…ten seconds go by another gasp, then a while late another deep breath.
I feel the pulse in his arm race as he takes these last breaths and then there were no more breaths. After that I felt his last heartbeat. People are beginning to rush in and begin saying kind words to him and whispering prayers quietly.
I am weeping at his side still holding his hand with my face in his large gut. I try and feel some sort of spirit leaving his body, I know I was there for it.
I had been sitting with Grandpa for15 minutes before he died. Before me his wife and my grandmother was at his side praying for a sweet release from his pain, she was there for hours. Before her there were many others but for some reason he died while I was with him and the room was relatively empty. I think he wanted to share that with me specifically. For some reason totally unknown to me he died in my hands. On that day I had a slim chance of being the person sitting next to him when he passed but it happened weather by random chance or distinct choice it will always make me feel completely unworthy and blessed by the experience.
Later on trying to process the day I realized George’s death was the last gift he had for us, the gift of community and family. The family is extremely large and he was th one who was always in favor of getting together. We all shared something very special on that day, bringing our family closer like he would have wanted.
I think only to myself, what a positive day. After the family leaves the hospice center my own immediate family go Chipotle. Mixed black beans, brown rice, and chicken with all the vegetables, the flavors blend as I ask them to stir it up for me. The food does not quiet us. Dad begins talking about memories of Gramps and we all listen appreciatively. The conversation turns and we are all laughing. Rarely do we as a family, get to sit down and have a good meal together, even more rare is a good conversation but on this night both occur.
On the drive back to the light rail dad begins to talk about my graduation. We talk about the stress surrounding graduation and the decision-making required. He puts my mind at ease. The train is in sight I grab my bicycle from the bed of his truck and run to catch it.
Sitting close on the train is a girl that could be nothing but a freshman at metro with her backpack and look of a long day under her eyes. “Gosh it’s gettin chilly out, eh?” “Ya it sure is.” We talk about our common psychology major and general school talk. She gets off, I curse, I have gotten on the wrong train and have passed my stop for a transfer. The next train does not arrive for thirty minutes. Standing in the frigid cold I wait.
The next train comes going north, on the train it is very empty. A man sitting alone is wearing a very large and extremely red handmade overcoat. I complement him on it and that was all it took. We ride the following train together as well.
My Univega mountain bike is cold, the gears shift only grudgingly. On this late night I notice my tracks are not the only ones in the fresh snow. I eventually come upon the source of the tracks. Two men, on saying goodbye to the other at Village Inn.
A tip for conversation is complements specifically about another’s bicycle. This man had a very nice specialized mountain bike. He tells me he as well lives at the Britain Apartment complex. We bike home in relative silence only lit by the street-lights, illuminating the freshly fallen snow.
What an amazing day I think to myself? Just like Gramps would have wanted.
