Dad with Meagan, left, and Susan, about 1990.
My daughter Meagan is a freshman at Davenport University. She wrote this for her composition class. I have her permission to post it here.
Letting Go
There I was, I couldn’t believe what
was happening. I was driving in my
parents dark green Ford Ranger, going at least 90 mph towards Muskegon. I was on my break from work and had virtually
no time to get to my destination, and back without being late, but I was determined. I didn’t care about the fact that I rolled my
car on this highway two weeks prior, I just passed the skid-marks and they
didn’t even phase me, all I knew was that I had to get to where I was going,
and I had to get there fast.
When I
walked through the hospital doors, I followed my father’s instructions to the
elevator and headed towards the critical care unit. When I found my grandfathers room, I didn’t
know what to do, I only had ten minutes before I had to head back to Grand
Rapids for work. My family had gone out
to lunch at the Applebee’s across the street and I was alone. I was terrified, I didn’t fully understand
what was wrong, I didn’t even know he was dying. No one told me.
As soon as
my family found out I was at the hospital, they came right over and brought me
into the room to see him. I couldn’t believe that that was my grandpa lying
there. He was hooked up to all kinds of
machines and monitors; he couldn’t speak or open his eyes. There was a tube
shoved down his throat to control his breathing. I couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or
awake. My grandma came and hugged me,
she told me about how my sister was crying earlier and that it would be okay if
I did. I wanted to but, I couldn’t cry,
I couldn’t believe the situation I was in, he was fine a few days ago. It was too much to bear. My family told me I should talk to him before
I left. They said he could hear me, and
that he could respond by squeezing my hand, but I said nothing. I wish with all my heart I would have told
him I loved him and how much he meant to me but I couldn’t find the words, I
was so scared.
Over the
next two days I kept thinking about all the things I loved about my
grandpa. He was a very important man in
my life. He and My grandmother were
practically a second set of parents to me and my sister. We used to go over to their house every day,
when my dad would go to school. I will
never forget the times we spent together, singing in the car, going to the
park, the tickle-fights, his famous macaroni and cheese, I miss him so much.
Monday, August 20, 2007, a day I’ll
never forget. I had just gotten home
from work and it was about 1:00 in the afternoon when my mom got the call. My Aunt Margie called her from the hospital
to say that we were losing him. My mom then told my sister and me to get into
the car and call our brother and our dad. I was so shaken up I couldn’t even talk to my dad on the phone, he
couldn’t understand what I was saying and I had to pass the phone to my mother.
So we drove our little green Ranger to my brother’s apartment, to pick him up
and bring him to the hospital with us. The four of us were all crammed in the
little truck listening to my iPod through the truck speakers. The only song I remember playing on the way
was “Free Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.
When we arrived at the hospital, my
family was still waiting on my Aunt Lorie’s family coming from Kalamazoo, and
my Dad who had been at work. The mood in the room was silent and painful, yet
full of love. My grandpa was still
hooked up to all those machines, and the tube was still there controlling his
breathing. He was on life support
waiting until the rest of the family to come.
My Grandmother was sitting in a chair
next to him, at the head of the bed. Her face was swollen from the crying and wet
from all the tears. She was holding his
hand and talking to him. I’ve never seen that much raw emotion, devastation or
heartbreak in my life. As soon as she
saw my mother and us three kids walk into the room she had us all come over and
hold his hand, so that he knew we were there with him. My sister and I began to cry, my brother
grabbed by the shoulders and pulled us into him. He held us there for awhile and we all cried
together silently in the comfort of each other’s arms.
My father was the last one to
arrive. He walked into a room filled
with sobbing people with breaking hearts. The moment he walked in I felt a slight feeling of relief go around the
room. He walked over to my grandmother,
gave her a hug and kissed her softly on the cheek, “I’m so glad you’re here
Clay,” I heard my grandma say to him. He
then went to stand behind her with my mother.
“Well Kathy, you’re the oldest, what
should we do?” my grandmother said turning to my mother.
“I think that it’s time to let him go
mom, whenever you’re ready.” My mother replied. We all knew that there was
nothing we could do, he was never coming back, this was it, this was the
end. The room was silent. It was divided
into groups of individual families trying to comfort and console each other.
The doctor
then came into the room to check his monitors and see if we had reached a
decision. My grandmother told him that she was ready to let him go. They decided that they would unhook him
slowly, giving all us enough time to say good-bye before he passed.
So we all
stood there with tears in our eyes watching him as he slowly passed away. One by one we all left the room leaving my
grandma with him alone. My family all
headed to the waiting room to sit until, the doctor told us we could re-enter
the room. I sat on a vinyl couch, coloring a picture of Cinderella and eating
out of an enormous bag of MMs. My family was around me talking about who was
going to stay with my grandma, and for how long, what we were going to eat for
dinner and what types of alcohol was back at my grandparents house.
When the
doctor told us we could go back to see our grandfather one last time before the
funeral, we all got up and slowly headed toward the room. The hospital halls seemed so cold and
sterile, I could hardly stand it. When
we walked into the room, there were no machines hooked up to him, and they had
taken the breathing tube out. He was gone.
Everyone
took their time to see him and then walked back to the waiting room. I was one
of the last to leave. I walked up to him and touched him on the shoulder. The
words “I love you grandpa,” slipped out of my mouth. They were the last words I
ever said to him, and he couldn’t even hear me. When I left the room my grandma
came up to me, and wrapped my in a warm hug, she then whispered “he was always
so proud of you girls,” into my ear. I’ll never forget that moment; the thought
of it still brings tears to my eyes. After
the hospital everyone went to my grandmas for dinner. I don’t even remember what we ate. My mind
was somewhere else. My mom stayed with
my grandma that night so I drove the truck home with my brother and my sister.
We listened to my iPod again, and the only song I remember playing on the way
home was once again, “Free Bird,” That song will always make me think of that
day; the hardest day of my life.
