Life is but a Dream

I sat on his right side, holding his hand. The room was quiet and I focused on his breathing. The house was filled with the aroma left over from the women in my family spending the entire day cooking. The hospice nurse said that the smell of familiar foods is comforting to people “near the end” even when they themselves can’t enjoy the taste. Of course, there would have been lots of food no matter what the nurse said because that’s how we do things in my family. There is always plenty of food.

He was one of nine children and the only boy of the family. His sisters flew in from all over the country to spend time with him. My mom told me that the only time he had woken up in the last two days was when his sisters sang songs to him from his childhood. They surrounded him and sang in Spanish and for a few moments, he opened his eyes. We’re pretty sure his sight was completely gone at that time but he looked around and smiled a little bit. He knew they were there.

He had been living with my uncle for about ten years. He stayed at his house for a few years after my grandmother passed but as time went on he needed help with day-to-day activities. He never wanted to be put in a nursing home and my family made sure he never was. His legs always bothered him so my uncle converted the study on the main level into a bedroom for him so he didn’t have to bother with the stairs. When his legs got worse, he got a walker and furniture was moved so he could get around. And when his legs got much worse, he got a wheelchair and ramps were put in. My family did what they had to do to make sure he never had to go to a nursing home.

When the dementia had taken full hold, there was talk about a nursing home because he was so hard to care for and they worried about his safety. In the end, everyone took turns taking care of him. The last two weeks of his life, one of his children was by his side every hour of every day. A hospice nurse came in and showed them all how to care for him in his final days.

“He seems to really like it when you sing to him.” My mom looked exhausted Wednesday night when she said that to me.

“Mom, I don’t know any of the songs in Spanish.”

“Well I don’t either but I just sing what I know.”

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream…

And so with my mom on his left side and me on his right we sang to my grandpa last Wednesday night.

I was in the shower Friday morning when I heard my cell ring. It wasn’t even 7am yet; I knew who was calling and what the call was about. I didn’t hurry or rush and I didn’t return the call until I was getting ready to walk out the door.

“Sweetheart, grandpa passed away this morning. His breathing became pretty labored last night so we sat up with him all night. We read books and watched old movies. Around 5am we opened up the curtains in his room and I described the sunrise to him. He was really peaceful and we were right by his side when he went. I’m so happy we were with him.”

Although I knew my mom was calling to tell me that my grandpa had died, I wasn’t prepared for her description of the moment he passed. The fact that he got one last sunrise surrounded by his children - well, we should all be so lucky. Knowing that brought a smile to my face despite the tears that were rolling down my cheeks.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream…