Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Two Years Ago Today

On October 7, 2007, my grandpa on my mom's side, Donald Moore, passed away, early in the morning. Thanks to a very understanding boss and supervisor at the Writers' Program, where I was working at the time, I had spent an entire week with my family by his bedside, waiting for nature to take its course. I finally decided it was time to fly back to California and that morning, while getting ready for my early flight, I got the call from my mom, subdued and resolute, that he had finally passed.

I nodded, a lump in my throat, though she couldn't hear the nod through the phone. "How is Grandma taking it?"

My mom paused.

"She doesn't know yet. No one has woken her up."

My grandma was laying in the hospital bed, as she had done for the last few nights of his life, embracing him as best she could without disturbing the one tube he had inserted into his arm - no food and no fluids, just some morphine for a pleasant send off. And he was dead. But she wouldn't know that until someone woke her up.

I cannot think about this horrible but beautiful moment without getting extremely choked up. It is so tragic to think that someone had to disturb her peace to let her know that her companion of 62 years had slipped away from her. And then I always laugh a little imagining everyone arguing over who had to actually do it, although I can't remember if my mom was alone or if my sister, aunt, or uncle were with her that morning.

My grandma and grandpa were like peanut butter and jelly, only the cutest damn pb & j you ever did see. He was one of the quietest, most introverted people I have ever known, and she is, to this day, one of the most flamboyant, excited, outgoing people I can think of. Yet they went together so well. They would play a game together where she would pretend she had just met him, and call him "Doctor" or "Henry." For their 50th wedding anniversary, I got to make a speech about their "first 50 years" and had the opportunity to interview them (when I say them, it was probably grandma). I learned fascinating things about their early years, such as their Honeymoon wasn't a Honeymoon at all but really a ride on an army bus to Grandpa's next station, while they were in the midst of WWII. I believe that Grandma and her friends came to visit the base at some point as part of a USO effort, and I think it involved an embarrassing song and the wearing of some pantyhose on their heads...

They were so affectionate with one another, even in his last years. He had a rapidly progressing case of Alzheimer's and stopped recognizing a lot of people, but never her, to my knowledge. It was because of the dementia that his passing was probably a blessing, but we knew it would be horrible for Grandma. He had been by her side for 62 years; through wars, economic crises, births of children, grandchildren, graduations, weddings, every little step of life, they had been together. They had trundled along in the motor home from one side of the country to the other, even up to Alaska and back. My grandpa had built not only the house she still lives in, but the famed lake cabin at Loon Lake. His hand prints were everywhere in her life, but he would no longer be there.

I think I understand why they let her sleep a little longer.