Happy Birthday Jesus, Goodbye Ralph
I’ve never been a religious person and I’ve never gone to church regularly. Sure, when I was very young I used to go to Sunday school, but to me that really wasn’t church. My family was never very religious either. Though the last several years, my brother and my two sisters have been avid churchgoers. Still, I could never be swayed. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not an atheist or anything. I never knew what I was until I heard the term ‘Agnostic’. I suppose that sums me up the best. I have always wanted to be convinced that there is a God and a Jesus Christ, but nothing has ever made me ‘know’ that they are real. At the same time, I never wanted to ‘not believe’ in them.
Three years ago, my grandfather’s started to decline when he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. His body in that time just started to get weaker and weaker. Also in that time, my mother assumed complete responsibility for him. It’s been really hard on her to do this. It’s not only hard seeing him slow down and get very forgetful and childlike, but physically hard for her to keep up with her own life. I don’t think I have ever done enough to help out. My siblings chipped in a lot though. My brother giving him medicine and lunch everyday on his lunch hour, my sister helping to bathe him, and etc. It’s been very hard for me to see him. I think I’ve been avoiding seeing him and I’m embarrassed about it. I’m disgusted with myself.
On October 29th, he had a heart attack and fell down in front of an electric heater he kept by his chair. He must have been unconscious, because he lay there long enough to receive 2nd and 3rd degree burns on his right leg and 4th degree burns (all the way through the muscle to the bone) on his left leg. My mother found him and he was rushed to the hospital and then airlifted to another hospital in Chattanooga. It was pretty gruesome. We all thought he was going to die, because he was already weak and it would be hard for his body to heal that kind of damage. The doctors didn’t think he would survive the night, but he pulled through. The burns on his left leg were so bad that it had to be amputated. After the surgery his health began to improve, because his body didn’t have to heal those burns. Over the next couple of months, we all went through an emotional roller coaster. Some days he would be himself and other days he’d be non-responsive. After further improvement, we decided to have him moved to a nursing home. This was a decision that had to be made, but my mother truly hated it. We went and made all arrangements to have him moved when the hospital approved it. Just before he was to be moved, he took a turn for the worst. He was moved back in to the ICU and put on a ventilator. His blood pressure wouldn’t stay up and they kept him sedated to make it easier on him to use the ventilator. He had also gotten a staff infection.
Christmas morning I got a call from my mother to tell me that he had died minutes earlier. I couldn’t believe it, but I had expected it. Maybe not this day, or this month, or this year, but I knew it couldn’t be long. He seemed so unhappy and he was suffering a lot. We decided to go ahead and have Christmas for the kids. They helped take our minds off of it some, but it was still a horrible day. I had lost the only real father I had ever known. The man who taught me to fish, the man who taught me to love baseball, the man who taught me drive, the man who taught me to be so easy going, the man who taught me to love to argue, the man who taught me to be a man. He is a man that everyone who ever came in contact with him thought highly of him. He is the man that I never heard complain about anything, even in the hospital in the end when he was in so much pain. He is the man I always wanted to be and will always want to be, but will never achieve that kind of greatness. I’ve always thought of him as a father. In fact, reading an earlier journal post, I had discussed it before.
My mother took it very hard as we all did, but my brother took it the worst. He is the oldest (8 years older than me) and had spent the most time with him. My brother wanted to speak at the funeral, which was yesterday. I have never been more proud of him in my entire life. The speech he gave was the most perfect representation of my grandfather and the feelings that we all shared about him. We are a family that never discusses love and feelings. My brother spoke from the heart and I think everyone in attendance was touched. I hadn’t cried in about 14 years before yesterday. One thing my brother talked about was discussing God and Jesus with my grandfather. He had asked him if he believed in God and if he believed that Jesus had died on the cross for him. My grandfather had said he believed and that he had been saved.
While listening to this speech I thought about what I was hearing and wondered if my grandfather truly did go to Heaven and see God and Jesus. I don’t really know what happens after you die. I wish I did. After I got home last night, I had an email from a co-worker that stated ‘I know it is not much you want to think about now, but your Grand Father was able to see the Lord and Savior on his Birthday’. After reading this, I want to believe that there is a God, there is a Jesus, there is a Heaven, there is a beautiful place where he is sitting right now with my grandmother and his parents and his brothers and sisters and they’re all laughing and having a good old time like the old days when I was a kid, or they’re eating birthday cake with the Lord, and they are watching over us. I want to believe that someday I’ll be there with them. This was the hardest loss I’ve ever had in my life and I didn’t want him to go, but if that is where he is and that is what he is doing, then I’m happy. It give me something to be happy about in a time when I’m the most unhappy I’ve ever been.
Three years ago, my grandfather’s started to decline when he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. His body in that time just started to get weaker and weaker. Also in that time, my mother assumed complete responsibility for him. It’s been really hard on her to do this. It’s not only hard seeing him slow down and get very forgetful and childlike, but physically hard for her to keep up with her own life. I don’t think I have ever done enough to help out. My siblings chipped in a lot though. My brother giving him medicine and lunch everyday on his lunch hour, my sister helping to bathe him, and etc. It’s been very hard for me to see him. I think I’ve been avoiding seeing him and I’m embarrassed about it. I’m disgusted with myself.
On October 29th, he had a heart attack and fell down in front of an electric heater he kept by his chair. He must have been unconscious, because he lay there long enough to receive 2nd and 3rd degree burns on his right leg and 4th degree burns (all the way through the muscle to the bone) on his left leg. My mother found him and he was rushed to the hospital and then airlifted to another hospital in Chattanooga. It was pretty gruesome. We all thought he was going to die, because he was already weak and it would be hard for his body to heal that kind of damage. The doctors didn’t think he would survive the night, but he pulled through. The burns on his left leg were so bad that it had to be amputated. After the surgery his health began to improve, because his body didn’t have to heal those burns. Over the next couple of months, we all went through an emotional roller coaster. Some days he would be himself and other days he’d be non-responsive. After further improvement, we decided to have him moved to a nursing home. This was a decision that had to be made, but my mother truly hated it. We went and made all arrangements to have him moved when the hospital approved it. Just before he was to be moved, he took a turn for the worst. He was moved back in to the ICU and put on a ventilator. His blood pressure wouldn’t stay up and they kept him sedated to make it easier on him to use the ventilator. He had also gotten a staff infection.
Christmas morning I got a call from my mother to tell me that he had died minutes earlier. I couldn’t believe it, but I had expected it. Maybe not this day, or this month, or this year, but I knew it couldn’t be long. He seemed so unhappy and he was suffering a lot. We decided to go ahead and have Christmas for the kids. They helped take our minds off of it some, but it was still a horrible day. I had lost the only real father I had ever known. The man who taught me to fish, the man who taught me to love baseball, the man who taught me drive, the man who taught me to be so easy going, the man who taught me to love to argue, the man who taught me to be a man. He is a man that everyone who ever came in contact with him thought highly of him. He is the man that I never heard complain about anything, even in the hospital in the end when he was in so much pain. He is the man I always wanted to be and will always want to be, but will never achieve that kind of greatness. I’ve always thought of him as a father. In fact, reading an earlier journal post, I had discussed it before.
My mother took it very hard as we all did, but my brother took it the worst. He is the oldest (8 years older than me) and had spent the most time with him. My brother wanted to speak at the funeral, which was yesterday. I have never been more proud of him in my entire life. The speech he gave was the most perfect representation of my grandfather and the feelings that we all shared about him. We are a family that never discusses love and feelings. My brother spoke from the heart and I think everyone in attendance was touched. I hadn’t cried in about 14 years before yesterday. One thing my brother talked about was discussing God and Jesus with my grandfather. He had asked him if he believed in God and if he believed that Jesus had died on the cross for him. My grandfather had said he believed and that he had been saved.
While listening to this speech I thought about what I was hearing and wondered if my grandfather truly did go to Heaven and see God and Jesus. I don’t really know what happens after you die. I wish I did. After I got home last night, I had an email from a co-worker that stated ‘I know it is not much you want to think about now, but your Grand Father was able to see the Lord and Savior on his Birthday’. After reading this, I want to believe that there is a God, there is a Jesus, there is a Heaven, there is a beautiful place where he is sitting right now with my grandmother and his parents and his brothers and sisters and they’re all laughing and having a good old time like the old days when I was a kid, or they’re eating birthday cake with the Lord, and they are watching over us. I want to believe that someday I’ll be there with them. This was the hardest loss I’ve ever had in my life and I didn’t want him to go, but if that is where he is and that is what he is doing, then I’m happy. It give me something to be happy about in a time when I’m the most unhappy I’ve ever been.