Sitting there in the living room-turned-hospice-bedroom for my Pop Pop, I hugged his hand with my hand.
My grandmother sat across from me, red-faced, tears welling up in her eyes. She looked at me with that loving grandmom look. "It all happens in an instant, Katie. He was fine one day. The next day, some back pain, then one thing led to another, and now we're....(she looks at my Pop Pop, lovingly...pausing)....here."
I know, Grandmom. I know. Life is so full of unknowns. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I say.
I feel my Pop Pop squeeze my hand. He's still asleep. Breathing deeply with the help of an oxygen machine. I run my finger over his wedding band. The one that's been there for 61 years, representing his faithful and strong commitment to my grandmother...to his family.
She looks outside at Emeline playing on the deck with my dad as she says, "Please. Just enjoy every second. Every minute. I know. I know it's hard. I know that you do. Life is just so fragile."
I smile, I tell her I will. That I do. That I'm so very sorry.
I'm reminded that life is full of unknowns. Our time with our family is not promised to us. Despite the long life my Pop Pop was able to lead, no matter what, when someone's time comes to an end, it's painful. Humans feel. We're supposed to. And it feels awful.
I am just thankful for the life & legacy that he's had.
And for the hours or days we have left with him, we will hold his hand, pray with him, be there as often as we can, and outpour love on him. He deserves no less.
Thank you for all your prayers during this time.