Prayers for the family

This is one of the sadder posts that I have made.

Yesterday I got an email from my dad - that I did not get until later that night - that said my Grandpa Krutzig was transferred to Hospice care at the hospital, the doctor had detached his defibrillator and if I wanted to come say my goodbyes, this would be the time to do it, as it looks like he'll only have a couple of days left in him.

I was debating whether or not I wanted to go - I am becoming more of a believer that I don't like going to see people in the hospital because I want to remember just the good memories, not how awful, or struggling they are in the hospital, ya know?

Well, my mom called at about 9:30pm last night after I had just gotten out of the shower and told me that just our "little" family was there, and they sent my Grandma home for a couple of hours so that she could get some rest. I hemmed and hawed about going, and felt the daughter-to-father pull that he needed me to be there.

So, I changed out of my pjs and Derick and I drove to the hospital. It was rough. As we walked into the hospital, everything about the place seemed unwelcoming. The smell of sterilization and sanitizer and even the lady and the security guard at the information desks weren't overly pleasant. One more thing about hospitals - why is it that just about everyone is like the hardest building to navigate period?! You would think that they would have another method. Like, for instance, Derick and I had to enter through the Emergency patient entrance, ask at the info desk where to go, go over to the security desk to get a visitor badge and he said to go to the end of the hall and take the elevators to the 4th floor. Ok, we walked to these huge, grey, steel double doors that look like all of the ones in the shows and movies that you "cannot go through." but, we had to then press an intercom and he had to buzz the doors to let us in.

Once we got to his room, my mom made me go and sit in the chair by my Grandpa's bed. I was not ready for that. I should have said no and gone to where I ended up spending the rest of my time there that night - sitting in a chair behind my dad on the other side of my Grandpa's bed.

Watching him was hard. Both my dad and my Grandpa. My Grandpa struggled to breath and then would wake up a little and struggle to sit-up and get comfortable. I liked the quiet in there with him. You just felt led to think about happier times with him and just zone out and be there for him and for the rest of the family. That is, until my mom began her nervous (?) chatter that seemed to last too long. Then my Grandma and aunt Beth showed up again. My Grandma seemed happy to see me, but seeing her there trying to take care of him made me very sad as her whole world seemed to be falling apart.

It has been her life for so long to take care of him as he has had failing health for years and years. There was one point where I looked over at her leaning over his bed and she was just shaking her head. That is one of the most helpless moments that I have ever experienced.

We stayed until after 11pm and then I hugged my dad again - and he seemed like he did not want to let go. It was a good moment, one that also made me realize a couple of things:

1. Life is too short
2. The good ones go too soon
3. I need to tell people that I love, that I love them more often

and one last thing...

4. I think that I inherited my love of plaid from my Grandpa. He was wearing a plaid shirt (that I later found out was not his, but one that the hospital had put on him) and he usually wore plaid shirts.

It is going to be a rough week for the Krutzig clan, so please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers.

-L