Saying Goodbye

Last night I watched my uncle say goodbye to my grandfather. We were at the hospital, and my uncle was returning home after a relatively short visit that allowed my parents to take a vacation. I had to fight the tears that came as I watched and as my mother's eyes filled...we all knew that my uncle will never see his father again.

Last week, my grandfather had a mid-sized stroke (or a series of strokes) - he's weak, but his mind is still sharp and his speech is still good when he's not tired. We've all been preparing for his departure from this earth since he was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago, but until a few weeks ago, we actually had reason to believe he would be with us for another year or more. Not anymore. The doctor has given his best guess at 1-2 months. We all believe it's for the best, since my grandfather has almost certainly said a nightly prayer for the last few months, praying that he doesn't wake up. None of us want to say goodbye, but in many ways I think it will be easier to say goodbye than to see a formerly strong, independent, proud man lying in a hospital bed, not strong enough to even roll over on his side without help. And I know that nothing would make him happier than to join my grandmother in heaven.