A whirlwind.

That’s all I can think of when I try to describe last week- a total whirlwind.

Two weeks ago my Aunt Carrie wrote us to say that Papa (my dad’s dad) had been hospitalized for kidney failure, and a few days later was diagnosed with peritoneal cancer.  I called to talk to his nurse one night to get a better picture of what we were looking at, since I know how overwhelming hospital stays can be and my aunt was doing a great job of relaying information, but my medical mind had a few more questions.  I could tell after talking to her that things didn’t look good, but he was stable for now, which put my mind at ease while he and my grandmother waited to talk to the oncologist. 

And then at 5pm on Monday of last week, my sister called me to say that she’d just talked to Carrie.  Papa had decided against continuing dialysis since the cancer wasn’t treatable, and if we wanted to say goodbye, we needed to go now.

Three hours later we were on a plane with Little Missy headed to LAX.

I will never forget the reaction of my grandparents when we walked into his hospital room the next morning, or the conversations that followed.  I will forever be grateful that we got on a plane and went as fast as we could, because being able to say goodbye to him, and hear how he had made peace with the circumstances gave me peace about the situation. 

He looked so much like my dad laying in that hospital bed.  Not because he was dying, but because he is my father’s father, and they do things similarly.  It was creepy and comforting at the same time. He would move his arm this way, or jostle his body that way, and I was almost sure it was Dad instead of Papa.   It made it feel like Dad was in the room with us.

When he asked me why I wasn’t wearing my scrubs, I said “I’m not here to work, Papa, I’m here to be with you.”  He proceeded to tell every person who walked into his room about his granddaughter who worked at Johns Hopkins.  I could tell it wasn’t the first time he’d told everyone either, since they all seemed to say “oh you’re the one he’s been talking about.”  And, while I was a little embarrassed, I was also very ….comforted? proud? Loved? To know that he had been bragging about me.  I don’t usually like to tell people that I work at Hopkins because I don’t feel like I did anything special to get a job there, but he reminded me that it IS something to be proud of, especially if it makes my grandparents brag incessantly.

Over the course of the day, his condition deteriorated, but he made the effort to connect with everyone who came to see him.  His reaction to seeing Nate, his first grandchild, after Nate had driven all night to see him, is something that I’ll hold in my heart forever.  He was fighting so hard to be able to see him, that when he did, his face lit up and his body relaxed almost simultaneously.  It was as if he felt joy and relief at the exact same moment.

After that, it was clear that he was ready to go.  I talked with his nurse about pain control, and a few hours later, he passed away peacefully surrounded by the family he created.

Watching my grandmother say goodbye to the man she loved for more than 60 years broke my heart, and hearing her say “I just never imagined life without you” was almost more than I could handle.

I love my family.  As I sat in his hospital room, I watched his interactions with each person who had come to see him- his wife, his children, his sisters, his grandchildren- and tried to put myself in each of their shoes to see how I would feel about losing my husband/father/brother.  Because I was less overwhelmed this time, I was able to process more as it was happening, reminding myself that I wasn’t just losing my grandfather, but that a husband, father and brother was also being lost.  While I know what it is like to lose your father, I hadn’t considered that my great-aunts were also losing their brother.  Through it all, I realized that my grandfather was the patriarch of an amazing family, and everyone should be so lucky to have been loved so severely by someone like him.  He was an amazing man with an incredible work ethic (which my sister talks more about here) and I am grateful to have spent the time I did with him, and beyond proud to be a Chambers.  I can’t wait to see my family under happy circumstance instead of sad ones, but it was great to be there for one another that day, and the couple following when we went back to Lompoc.

And for the record, while recognizing the signs that death is near may get easier, saying goodbye certainly does not and I hated it just as much.

I flew back to Maryland Thursday night with Sissy and Little Missy and we were all completely exhausted.  I collapsed into my bed for a four-hour nap before heading back to the airport.  I was on my way to Michigan for the wedding of two of my dear friends from Valpo, and it was just what my heart needed.  Look for another post about that soon.

In the meantime, as my family prepares to say goodbye to a great man, I find myself again wishing I could be in two places at once.  I would love to be at his service Sunday to hear all of the great stories that will be told.  For pretty much all of my life, I’ve envisioned Papa as the coolest guy in Lompoc (pretty much the John Travolta character in Grease, actually) and I would love to hear other people talk about how great he was.  But, I’ll be working, which in my own way is honoring him, since he loved to brag about it so much J