All We Ever Do is Say Goodbye

John Mayer has a song, "All We Ever Do is Say Goodbye," and sometimes I feel like that's just the story of life- saying goodbye. I wrote in my last post that Grandpa isn't doing well, and last night I had a really hard phone conversation with my mom. Grandpa, "G," has decided to go to in-home hospice care and stop having dialysis- no machines. What this really means, is that G has made the decision to say goodbye. He can, however, at any time, decide to receive dialysis again, but I think his decision has been made. 

He cried. My stoic, not-so-sentimental grandpa cried when he made this decision. I cannot even fathom how difficult that was for him. In his words, "his mind has outlived his body." I called to talk to him last night, and the phone conversation lasted 2 minutes because neither of us could stop crying. What do you do when you hear your 92 year old grandpa crying? The only time I've ever seen him cry is when my grandma died 8 years ago. 

Goodbye. How many times did I wish I'd had the chance to say goodbye to my dad? To my grandma? I would have leaped through fire to have had that opportunity. Yet here that opportunity is presenting itself and I don't want it. How do you say goodbye to the man who served as your surrogate father for 13 years? To the man who told you to pick yourself up, "you'll be alright," every time life knocked you down? To the 92 year old man who served in a world war, was married to the same woman for 59 years? A woman who the doctors said would never have children or live past 21? How do you say goodbye to a man who has 2 children, 6 grandchildren, and 6 great-grandchildren? Who worked his way through life, always making responsible choices? To a man who was Mr. Fix It, and never paid someone to fix things if he could do it himself? A man who got on the ground to play with not only his children, grandchildren, but great-grandchildren to be the "tiger" that chased us around the house? How do you say goodbye?

It's easy for me to feel like life is a series of goodbyes. I'm about to lose a third most important person in my life. I think my family and I are justified being sad and a little depressed. I have no doubt that we will make it through this- we always do. Sometimes though, it's easy to get tired of fighting. Tired of thinking "OK, let's add one more thing to my plate, one more disappointment, one more upset," but you know what? G's life was full of those moments, but he still lived it to the full. 

My grandparents went on cruises with their friends at 60. They bought an RV and drove across the country. At 70+ they went down water slides. I was 11 when I came home from school to find G trying to ride my bike in the driveway (he was 82 at the time). He still cut the grass in the yard until 2 years ago. We had to hide the ladders in the house because we were afraid he'd fall off and break a bone. He didn't let the amount of goodbyes he'd said in his life keep him down. 

I have felt God preparing me for this time for about a year now, but it doesn't make it any easier. Yes, I've gotten into shouting matches with G. I've snapped at him. I've been so angry I saw red. I've been rude. I've been disrespectful. But he's loved me anyway. For now, he's still kickin'. As I go home this weekend to spend time with my family, I don't want it to be sad. I plan on listening to G tell his "In the navy..." stories. I hope to laugh, because if anything, I will always remember the twinkle in G's eyes, letting us all know that he was secretly up to no good. If I make it to 92, I pray to God that I have that twinkle in my eyes, because despite the heartache of life, if I still have that twinkle, there's still something to live for. 

He will always be the "G" to my "V."

Smile, God loves you! 

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."
~Romans 8:28