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Beverly C. Meadows

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Member Since: Mar, 2007

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Grandfather, The Man and his story
By Beverly C. Meadows
Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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This is a true story based on my own personal experience.

I'll never forget it. How could I? He was such a big part of my life. In fact Grandfather, was larger than life to me. February 14th 1998, that was the day that my grandfather died. "Valentines Day," a date that until that time I had always thought of with fondness. February 14th was for sweethearts to express their love to each other. The day that my husband had proposed to me. Now, from that point on I could only think of this date with sadness. The day before my grandfather had been operated on for stomach cancer. Now on February 14th 1998, he lay so still and silent in the hospital bed. Unaware of what was going on around him. He was unaware of the decision that had been reached by all his family members. They had come together just for that moment in time. All the factors had been weighed, quality of life, the need for closure and the expense of keeping him on life support. The weight of the burden of knowing that there was nothing more that could be done for him. Yet, even knowing all of that. The silence in the hospital room was shattered every now and then as the breathing apparatus that was keeping Grandfather alive gasped out again and again. Then, total silence as with the flick of a switch, the machine stopped once and for all. The nurse removed the breathing tube and everyone standing around the bed saw it. The beautiful and peaceful smile, resting on Grandfather's face. We knew that we had done the right thing.
So many times we had agonized over the decision to unplug Grandfather's life support after the operation that he never awoke from. He remained in a coma until his death. In my heart I knew, that he knew how much we had all loved him. In the days leading up to his death, his family gathered around him and we had all said our goodbyes. He spent time with each of us, reiterating memories of our childhood with us. Telling us stories about how he grew up in the depression. Of how at the age of nine he had lost his own father in an accident. Grandfather had fulfilled all his dreams. There was not one stone in his long life that he'd left unturned. Not one door that he had left unopened. He left this life holding onto no regrets. For me, this was a lesson. A lesson not to hold onto the bad experiences in my life. A lesson to only remember the good that happens. Now, when I think of February 14th, I think not about the death of my grandfather. But rather I think of how we showed Grandfather, how much we really did love him.

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Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 3/21/2007
He lives on in memory in this beautiful, heartfelt write! I lost my mom on a holiday too, 17 years ago. She died on St. Paddy's Day, March 17, 1990. She would have been sixty in May; she didn't quite make it. Far, far too young. I still miss her now. Very well done; I can understand what you are going through. Very well done!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :( >tears! <

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