Rest Easy, Papa

A week ago yesterday, my grandfather passed away.  Earlier that morning, Nora, Vickie, and I had arrived in his hospital room.  The night before, my Aunt Carrie had called to let us know that because his cancer was inoperable, he had elected to stop receiving dialysis treatments, so Vickie and I decided to take Nora with us to see him one last time and say goodbye.  It had only been a week before that that he'd been admitted to the hospital due to kidney failure, which had been the first sign that he was seriously ill.

I will always count it as one of the great fortunes of my life that we got to see him only a few months ago, when he was still feeling mostly like himself, and that we got to see him again last week to say goodbye.  Nora was sick during that trip in July, but I could still tell how much delight he took in being around her.  And when we walked into that hospital room last week, and he was visible excited as he said "Nora, Nora, Nora!" I have never been more proud of anything than I was to make him that happy.

During that morning visit, Papa was cheerful and peaceful.  He told me he wished he could hold Nora but was satisfied to rub her leg and commented on how soft her skin was.  "She hasn't spent quite as much time in the sun as me," he joked.  He thanked her for coming to see him.  He had me bring Nora in really close so he could tell her, "Someday, when you are older, you will understand about the cycle of life, and then you will know why I am so glad you came to see me."  I tried to choke back the tears long enough to say "We are so thankful we got here in time," but I'm not sure it made any sense.  It reminded me of how, in Dad's final days, he somehow managed to say the things that would give me the strength to keep on going without him.  Throughout the day, Papa's condition deteriorated rapidly, but he bravely hung on until all of the grandchildren who were traveling to see him arrived.  When Nate and Ashley got there, he couldn't really talk but his whole face lit up at the sight of them.  That evening, we all got a chance to spend time sitting with him and saying goodbye before he passed away peacefully.

I've been sitting on this blog post for several days, trying to figure out how I can pay tribute to my grandfather, especially when I'm so pinched for time with my comprehensive exam rapidly approaching.  And then it occurred to me: the best tribute I can pay to him is to get back to work.  He taught us to believe that if we worked hard enough, we could achieve anything we wanted.  But he also helped us to realize that working hard enough means working really, really hard.  Nobody was a harder worker than Papa, and anyone who worked with him will tell you that his employees worked hard for him just because they liked him.  Mimi told me that before he fell ill, he was making plans to come east to attend my PhD graduation ceremony.  For him there was no question about if I would be able to do it or not.  He was just waiting to hear when.  I can hear what he would say: "Get back to work, Missy."

So in honor of my grandpa and the work ethic he taught me, I've been plugging away at my work.  Somewhere down the line, I'll take a break long enough to write about how the things I will miss the most are his affectionate ribbing and his stories.  In the meantime, I'll savor this stage of loss in which every little thing reminds you of the person who is gone.  And I'll share the pictures and video of Nora from our trip, because he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Okay, I have to say one more thing before I go: my family is the best.  I can't wait until we are all together again for a celebration rather than to mourn, but in the meantime, I'm proud to be a member of a family who comes together to hold each other up during life's most trying moments.