I haven't had to deal with death a lot in my life. My parents, my siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents are all still here. Except for one. My grandpa Platt.
Fair warning, this is going to be a looooooooonnnnnngggg journal entry type of post. So here we go:
I am still trying to deal with my grandpa's death almost a year later. April 20, 2021 is the date he died. I still have a hard time looking at pictures of him. Whenever I see his picture, my heart hurts and I hurry and change what I'm looking at. Finding pictures for this post was painful, but I think it is time that I let myself fully think about him.
My grandpa was (and I believe that he still is) an amazing man. He caught COVID-19 and ended up in the hospital on oxygen. We all thought he was going to make it, until one day he ended up going onto a ventilator. The recovery rate for people his age going on a ventilator wasn't high. At all. But I personally kept telling myself he would pull through.
All of the kids my grandma and grandpa had, my dad being one of them, had a meeting with the doctor one day. My grandpa had said that he didn't want to be kept alive by machines, which is what was happening. They discussed the chances of survival (not high) and what challenges he would face IF he did pull through. The decision was made to take him off and let him pass away.
Since we couldn't go into the hospital to say goodbye, we had a big video call and told him our goodbyes over the phone. I told him it was okay to let go, even though I truly didn't feel that way. My grandma and two of my aunts went into the room to be with him as he passed to the other side. Everyone watched as the ventilator was taken out. One of my aunts told us how his heart rate was slowing down, and eventually, it stopped.
I was MAD. I am still kind of mad.
I'm mad at the hospital system. There was a talk given here that talked about a research project done back in the 1970s with bunnies. You can click on this link and go read it. But in the end this is the conclusion:
“Take a rabbit with an unhealthy lifestyle. Talk to it. Hold it. Give it affection. … The relationship made a difference. … Ultimately,” she concludes, “what affects our health in the most meaningful ways has as much to do with how we treat one another, how we live, and how we think about what it means to be human.”
Since it was during the COVID pandemic, only 2 people were allowed to go and visit him in the hospital. And they had to be fully vaccinated. And they could only stay for 30 minutes. My aunt was one of the people able to go and visit. She used to be a nurse, and I am so grateful that she was able to, and willing, to go. Sometimes, if the head nurse on the floor wasn't "the crabby one", they would let my aunt stay for longer since she used to be a nurse and knew how to help. My great-aunt (my grandpa's sister) was the other person allowed to go see him.
Here is why I am mad at the system. It is obvious that people thrive and are more healthy when they are shown love. Not just a little bit of love, but a lot. How can someone experience closeness and care when they are limited to such a small amount of time during the day? Even the nurses wouldn't be in there for more than 15 minutes at a time. How lonely and depressing that would be! I imagine that's how my grandpa felt. I am fully convinced that he, and thousands of others, would have lived if they hadn't been isolated that way. Isolation is not healthy, and it doesn't help anyone thrive in life.
Another reason I'm still made at the hospital system is this: When visitors would go to see someone with COVID, they had to wear basically a hazard suit. But they were limited to 30 minutes because apparently there was still a risk of someone catching the virus if you were exposed to it longer. Like WHAT? What's the point of getting vaccinated and wearing a hazard suit in the first place IF THEY DON'T WORK?? It doesn't make sense! It should have been that if you were vaccinated and wearing the hazard suit, you would be fine since you (apparently) would be super protected.
And here's something interesting. The second his heart completely stopped, people were allowed in the room WITHOUT having to be vaccinated and wearing the hazard suit. So......what? I still can't wrap my head around it.
Let's talk about another reason I was/ still am a little bit mad.
My grandpa had a very special love for my grandma. A few years after they were married, she was in a car accident that paralyzed her. From that day on, my grandpa devoted his life to taking care of her. Anything she needed, he was there to help. My grandma was (and I believe she still is) his whole world.
He would always tell us that he wasn't going to die before my grandma because he needed to make sure she would be taken care of until the end of her life. He said he prayed for that everyday.
But then, he died. Why wouldn't God have listened to those prayers? Why would God let my grandpa die before my grandma? Why did God listen to all of our prayers, our fasting, blessings to heal my grandpa so he could go back to my grandma. Basically my question to God just was WHY? Why? Why? Why?
I had naively thought that love could conquer anything. Why couldn't love conquer this? I can't emphasize how much my grandma meant to him. Words can't describe it. It wasn't your "normal" type of love. It was somehow something more. Why didn't that matter?
I kept tell my grandpa to fight. I wanted him to fight for his life. I wanted him to fight to get back to my grandma. In the end, he fought as hard as he could. He was tired. Not once have I heard my grandma say she was mad at God or my grandpa. I wish I had her faith.
Here is the last thing, or rather, the last person I'm mad at. I'm mad at myself. You always hear about how people wish they had spent more time with family. Well, I wish I would have made the time to drive out there more. Why didn't I? Honestly, I don't know. It's not like it was hours and hours of driving. So, I'm mad at myself for not making more of an effort. I'm mad I didn't take my kids out there more so they could have more memories with him.
Even now as I'm writing this, I haven't driven out there very much. Honestly, it is too hard. It is hard to be in the house that he remodeled for my grandma's wheelchair. It's too hard to go into the backyard where he built us a little bunkhouse for sleepovers.
It's hard to think about how I should have made more time to go sleepover there with my sister. It's hard to be there for holidays. It's hard to be there and not think about him and what happened. It's just hard.....
I have so many memories of him. But, this is a long post/journal entry, so I'll end for today. But, I love you grandpa, and I miss you so much.
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