Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I got a call today that wasn't unexpected but still made me cry. My Grandpa Martin passed away this morning.
He was 91 years old and lived a very long and full life. And the past three or four years, his health, his mental health in particular, had greatly deteriorated. I know that now his mind and his spirit are at peace.
When we were home a few weeks ago, he was living in a mental hospital and was rapidly going downhill. I chose not to visit him then because I wanted to remember him the way he was when we were home the year before, when he had just moved into an assisted living facility and was in one of his "good" periods.
He was whizzing down the hall on his motorized scooter and telling everyone he passed, "This is my granddaughter and her husband, from Virginia!" He had shown us all the birds at the feeder outside his window, too. It was a moment of good spirits for him, in a time of what had become increasing anger, anxiety, and irrationality. I am really glad to be able to remember him in that moment of time.
I'm sad that he is gone, but also very sad because I don't think I am going to be able to make it home for the funeral. I am feeling okay for being a week post-surgery, but not okay enough, I think, for a plane flight home. I've been sitting here trying to think it through for a few hours now. I want to be there very much.