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Sunday, October 14, 2007

Until my early twenties I was lucky enough not to have to deal with death in almost any intimate form. That changed during a frightful week junior year of college in which my grandfather suffered a stroke and wavered between life and death before eventually pulling through. The state he was left in though tested the definition of living, and it was clear very soon after that his remaining days were few.

I learned more about my grandfather after he became unable to speak and comprehend than I did when he could; he was a reticent man almost fanatically dedicated to not talking about himself. In the years he lay in that bed I listened to my grandmother talk about his past, about individual Depression-era struggles and shared post-war successes, until he outlived her and I could learn no more. When she passed I could not eulogize her without also doing so for him.

While he continued to lay in his long-term acute ward not truly alive I experienced the odd sensation of grieving for someone not yet dead. Over the past three years however, I've felt the more traditional kind of grief - for the immediately departed - a few too many times.

Now he is gone as well, and the beginning and end of his seven-year exit serve as bookends for a painful era I hope is over.

Posted by morland @ 01:55 PM

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