A precious experience: Visiting Grandpa in Farmington. He was so small, barely there, barely hearing, recognizing a few. He knew me, I was grateful. He would doze, and then come back. He spoke often of how he should be on the top of a mountain. I told him he would be at the top of a mountain soon. His heart was in the mountains.
My mom and aunts brought him to Mancos to see all of the great grandkids and the families gathered. He had color in his cheeks, a smile on his face, hooked up to oxygen, dozed off and on, but mostly reveled in his party. He'd brought his entire family to this place. Eventually it was time for him to go. I knew it would be the last time I'd see him. I will never forget the scene. Forty people, young and old, standing silent, as Grandpa was wheeled to Mom's car. Joe grabbed Grandpa and lifted him out of his wheelchair and placed him in the car. There was not a dry eye watching this scene. Lots of hugging. Off he went, back to Farmington.
Later, after everyone had dispersed from the reunion, news came that Grandpa was sliding fast, and that it was likely that he wouldn't last more than a day, then, a few hours. That night I said to myself that I would dream of Grandpa. I fell asleep.
As I was dreaming, I became aware of being on the top of a mountain, breathing in the night sky, feeling the cool air on my face, looking at the full moon. Grandpa was sitting with me at a picnic bench. He was full of life, smiling, very happy, also enjoying the air as we pointed out all the marvels of our experience to each other. The dream ended.
The next morning, I was in my kitchen preparing breakfast, and I heard his voice, "I love you, Steffie." I knew he was gone from this realm, and shortly thereafter Mom called to tell me Grandpa had died in the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment