Remembering the man that he was…

Not the man that he is today.

I made a difficult … and selfish… decision this week.

My grandfather is not doing well at all. You see he was admitted into the hospital about a week or so ago due to dementia. It just became too much for my grandma to handle by herself. The medication was not working anymore. Unfortunately, during that week, things turned for the worse physically for him. On this past Monday, I had learned that my grandfather was given only a couple of days to live.

He was a strong, hard-working man. He owned his own business for a number of years. Although, he was rather close-minded on some aspects of my life (such as marrying a man of another race), he kept most of his opinions to himself so that we would still have a connection.

I remember going on camping trips with my grandparents. I remember going to farm shows with my dad and grandpa. I remember riding my big wheels and/or my bicycle up and down his driveway. I also remember him purposely moving his dentures around in his mouth to gross out us kids but claim innocence when we approached our dad or grandma about it. He was always there while I was growing up for my siblings and me.

I live a little bit away from my hometown so I guess I was fortunate that I did not have to see the day to day decline of my grandfather. It was easy to ignore the fact it was happening.

Due to the “Snow-polocypse”(aka “SnOMG”), I wasn’t able to immediately leave to return home. With the help of “Cinnamon”, I secured a hotel room in the hometown to visit this weekend.

I cancelled it this morning. I can’t seem grandpa this way. He is not himself anymore. I can not see him sick in a hospital bed. I do not want to be left with those images and memories in my head. It is a completely selfish decision but I just can’t bring myself to do it.

Someone mentions that those memories fade… but they don’t. They just get mixed in with the others. I know this for I experience it with my mom’s death… for I still see the images of the pictures of her open casket funeral in my mind. I know that my step-father’s family meant well in sending me pictures of a funeral that I couldn’t personal be at (she was cremated and her remains were sent north to me.) So, I am not mad at them for sending them because of their good intentions… but every time those images flash into my mind… I wish I didn’t open that unmarked envelope.

I don’t want to have to do that for my grandfather. I cannot willingly tarnish the memories that I have in this way.