My Dear Grampa's Final Days

I am writing this to record my experience during my Grampa's last days and hours of life on this earth, and to share it with those who could not be there, and with those who may find some comfort for their own lives in reading this story. I had the most sobering and precious privilege of being present with my Grampa, with all his children (my aunt and uncles), and several of his other grandchildren as he passed from this life into the next. I felt very heavily the responsibility of representing my siblings, our spouses, and all our children, Grampa's 8, almost 9, great-grandchildren. 

I first heard news that Grampa was terminally ill with cancer when my little sister Jael forwarded me a message from our cousin Yaasha, about her experience of spending Father's Day with Grampa. I later learned that Grampa and Clare (his second wife of many years) had found out from a doctor about 3 months ago that he had only 6 months to a year to live, and Clare described to me that they were in a "Fool's Paradise", in denial that he was really going to die soon, because he still looked so strong. I regret that I did not know about this until it was almost too late, as I would have liked to have had the chance to make a last visit to see Grampa with Nilson and all our girls, as Grampa never met the youngest three. However, I do not hold it against anyone, because even Clare admitted that they did not realize how eminent his death was until a few weeks ago. 

As we passed through security to board our flight to Amsterdam, on July 6th, I received a text message from Jael, saying that Aunt Brenda was advising the family that if anyone wanted to come and see Grampa one last time, they needed to come immediately. There was no turning back from our flight, we needed to get the kids home to Norway, and then decide what to do. When we arrived home, Nilson began the process of booking a flight for me leaving the next day. I was home only about 16 hours before flying out of Stavanger to Albany, NY. 

I arrived in Albany, met by Aunt Tracy, and stayed with her for the week, which was nice, except for the occasion. Grampa was not in good shape to visit any more when I arrived on Saturday, July 9th, so I went to see him on Sunday, July 10th. At that time, Dad had also just arrived the night before to Uncle Bruce's house. 

I arrived to Grampa's house to visit him, Dad had just seen him before me, as well as Uncle Scott. When I entered his room to greet him, he knew who I was, I told him I love him, and he replied, "I love you" in a very weak voice. I also told him that Nilson and the girls send their love, and Mel, Em, Zane and Jael also send their love, and he said "Thank you." His voice was so very weak. His hair completely white, his face drawn and very pale, his whole body wasted away, there was no way to even think of taking a photo with him in that condition. He positively looked like a man on his death bed, as he was indeed. It was just like what you see in a movie depicting a very old, frail man on his death bed, only this was a dearly beloved man to me, someone I had known in all his strength, in all the glory and honor that belongs to the accomplished professional and patriarch of the family that he was. The body that I saw him in was hardly the shadow of who he really was. I would rather not even remember the image of him like that, as it did not express the man that I knew. 

However, even though seeing him like that seemed like a lie and felt like a weight too heavy to bear, I continue to count it a priceless treasure to have been there with him to bless him and be blessed by him in his last days. I felt the grace of God holding me up and giving me the ability to go through this with dignity and strength. I believe that just about every member of the family coped with the sadness in part by finding joy and humor in being together. There were several things that became running jokes, but you had to be there, I think! It was quite interesting watching how each person dealt with the difficult reality of our dying father/grandfather. Some became withdrawn, some sobbed, some went to sing to him, some took walks outside, some talked quietly with each other, and of course each person had more than one reaction at different times. 

I had a conversation with Clare after greeting Grampa. She was concerned about Dad, who had gone to take a walk. She didn't know what to tell him that would be of any comfort to him. I tried to explain to her that, as Christian believers, we would like to have some sort of assurance from Grampa that he knows where he will go in the afterlife. She did not seem to really grasp what I meant, so I decided to drop it, and instead asked her what she believes. She told me, that though it may sound irreverent, she believes in herself, that she determines the good and bad that happens to her. I asked what she believed about what happens after death, and she said that she believes that death is the end, there is nothing more. My only reply to that at the time was that I find it interesting that my children seem to have an inborn desire to live forever, whenever we talk about such things. 

Dad came back after a while and gave Grampa a flower from outside, to which Grampa smiled. Dad said he would like someone to do that for him if he was no longer able to go outside himself. Grampa did not smile much during those last days, so that does say something. 

Uncle Matthew and Aunt Lynn arrived with all their children shortly thereafter. They sang several songs to Grampa, including Amazing Grace, which Clare told us was Grampa's favorite song. That was the first of the things that caught my attention and gave me deep reassurance about the spiritual state of Grampa. I never knew that about him before. 

Before we left Grampa's house, Grampa was more than ready to take a nap, and Clare announced that he was going to sleep, he was done visiting. So Uncle Bruce said he was going to say goodbye to him, and since he was doing that, I decided to sneak in with him to do the same. Grampa seemed startled awake by Bruce saying goodbye, and he began to motion and say, "Go, go!" and I felt that he was expressing that he didn't want us to make such a fuss over him, then he saw me standing there, and he said, "Oh, except for you!" which of course I thought was very funny and sweet of him. Several men in the family have said that they believed Grampa was at least a little bit partial to women, and so it seemed to be true. Actually, I believe those words were the last that he spoke specifically to me. 

Late that evening, Uncle Mark arrived from Washington state. In the morning, we got word from Clare that Grampa did not want any more visitors, except for Mark, since he was the last of his children to come. I was not there, but I heard the story several times, that Uncle Matt brought Uncle Mark to go visit Grampa, and they had said they would be there around 10am I think, but arrived about an hour late, because they got lost on the way. When they arrived, Mark went to Grampa's bedside, and was greeted with a very slow, feeble, but very purposeful middle finger from Grampa!!! Keren, my cousin, was also there, and adds alot to the story by including what Clare said... "George dear, are you giving Mark the finger? Well that's not very nice!" To add to that, Grampa actually gave the finger again, to make sure they understood, and Mark found the whole thing absolutely wonderful. Grampa was showing his spunk, and that he was still strong and spirited even while his body was giving out. I think we all found great humor and comfort in this story, really one of his last social interactions with his family. I think most of us saw it as his attitude about death too... as if to say, you know what death? take this!!! Don't know how you can disbelieve the eternal nature of the human soul after witnessing and hearing events like these. 

Mark found out that Grampa had not taken pain medications for about 3 days. It would seem that he was making sure to be as lucid as possible during what he knew would be his last visits with each of us. Soon after his visit with Mark, Grampa consented to be taken to a hospice, needing some additional medical expertise for him to be made comfortable.  Up till then, Clare had been taking care of his physical needs, and she was admittedly tired out. Since Keren had been there by Clare's side all morning, helping with errands and trying to make sure Clare was taking care of herself, I offered to take Keren's place to accompany Clare as Grampa was to be taken to the hospice. 

So that is how I ended up being there to support Clare as Grampa was taken to his place of death. Mark drove us behind the ambulance. Grampa was clearly starting to let go of life by then. I gave Clare my arm to help her walk, as she was quite weakened by being so physically and emotionally drained over those few days. Grampa was given a room, and he was clearly in pain. He was able to more or less express where he was hurting and what he needed, but he seemed weaker by the minute. He said he was in pain all over. I was there for several hours, Mark & I made sure that Clare got something to eat. Doctors and nurses came in and out. Procedures were done, but nothing was for the reason of prolonging his life, only trying to make him comfortable. He was given one, then another dose of morphine. I believe that his last clear words were to tell Clare to remember to lock the upper lock of the door at home. After that, the very, very last words I remember him saying were, "Less pain." We worked on making sure that he would be getting constant pain medication, and we didn't leave until we saw he was set up with a morphine drip, as there was no way he was going to be able to push any button to get help during the night. 

One other grandchild made it to visit when he realized this was his last chance to see Grampa. That was Jason, Tracy's middle son. Before he left, he leaned in to hug Grampa, and Grampa still somehow mustered the strength to hug him back, while Jason told him that he and his brothers were going to work on a very ambitious hiking goal, called the 46ers, which only a limited amount of people have done, hiking up 46 peaks in the Adirondack Mountains. Grampa proudly completed this goal himself with the recognition of being the 791st person to do it. Jason told Grampa that he and his brothers would do it in his honor. Grampa smiled, and that was his last smile. 

Before setting up the morphine drip, Clare started to sing to him, as he was very restless, obviously in pain, even trying to turn on his side to get relief. I came in to stand next to him, praying silently. She sang songs I didn't know, and I heard the word "faith" in one of them. I could feel God's Spirit there. I felt that God was ministering through her, whether she was aware of that or not. There was a distinct feeling of being between time and eternity. Clare sang a song that I remember from childhood, specifically that Mel used to sing it alot, about a grandfather clock that was bought the day the boy was born, and stopped, short, never to go again, when the old man died. His life seconds numbering, tick tock, tick tock. While she sang that song, which of course was entirely too appropriate, I was watching the wall clock in the room, and the second hand, on its way down from 12 to 6, glided along normally, then from 6 up to 12, it sprang jerkily, sometimes truly seeming to go backwards and jumping forwards, as if time was getting all mixed up. Very, very surreal. Then, Clare addressed me, and said, "What was that song that the girls [Matt's daughters] were singing yesterday? It started with an A?" I said, "Amazing Grace?" She said, "Yes, lets sing that song." So, there I was, standing by my dying grandfather, with his loving wife Clare, who had just the day before told me she believes there is nothing after death, singing Amazing Grace to him, his favorite song. I will cherish this moment in my heart forever and ever. Eternal Grace be yours forever, Grampa. I share this moment with you, because I pray it will give you comfort about Grampa's last days and moments as it did for me. 

By that time, Grampa had become calm, despite not getting more pain medication yet, and he was staring, as if looking into the future, as Clare described it, with a glazed look in his eyes. Clare noted that this was a distinct change. 

Soon after, a very compassionate nurse named Liz came to put in the morphine drip. We asked her if she believed he would last the night. She said she would not like to guess, as she was often wrong, but that the signs were there that he was progressing, his fingertips were blueish, there was mottling on his legs. I prepared myself that he was probably going to die during the night. I actually was worn out enough emotionally by the experience that I did not desire to be there at the actual moment of death, I preferred to pass the baton to someone else. It was to the point that seeing him suffer this way was too much, I believed it was best for him for this to be over. While at the hospice, I could see clearly how thin he was, there was really nothing to him except skin and bones, I do not know how he even lifted his arms when he did, because I couldn't see any muscle anywhere. He had held on just long enough to see everyone who had come to see him, he was ready to go. 

I went to give Grampa a kiss on his forehead, and said, "Good night, Grampa, I'll see you tomorrow, either here or There." He was no longer responsive. As Clare, Mark and I left the room, Clare said, "Good night, sweet prince, flights of angels..." a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet, as Dad informed me later, and Mark said he heard her complete that phrase with the rest of the quote, "... sing thee to thy rest." I didn't hear that part myself. All I know is that I really believe that the Spirit of God was prophesying through Clare, and I cling to that reassurance. I pray that my account of these events imparts the same reassurance to all those that loved him. 

Mark and I brought Clare home, had a glass of cranberry juice with her, had a couple laughs about some cartoons that she showed us, drawn by her son, depicting the time that some Norwegians came to Grampa and Clare's home to give him an award. 

Mark and I then went to Bruce's house, and from there, I went back to Tracy's, and Mark and Matt went back to the hospice, where they found out that Grampa had died shortly after midnight, perhaps about an hour after we had left. The nurse, Liz, was the one to tell them that she had sat with him and held his hand when he died, and that she believed he had purposely waited till we had all left to let go of life. Mark really believes that, and I tend to agree too. 

Tracy was the one to inform me when I awoke in the morning. I accepted it calmly, as I had expected to hear this news after how I had seen him the night before. His date of death was July 12th, 2011. Grampa's body was cremated immediately. We had a private family service for him on Thursday evening in Bruce's back yard. Tracy's son Ethan had a good friend who plays bagpipes, and he was hired to play a few songs for the service. Grampa had expressed that he wanted a bagpipe player to play Amazing Grace at his funeral. And so it happened. During the service, Kenny, the bagpipe player, dressed in full Scottish kilt, chose a song of his own, something about a type of tree in Scotland, that the monks and nuns would go "complain" to, and he said to think of the tree as a parent, someone you tell your troubles to, which is what Grampa was to many of us. At that point, my memories of him being there for me during difficult times came to mind, and I couldn't hold back the tears any more, I am so grateful for having him in my life, and I will miss him terribly. 

Vacationing with Four Little Princesses

Stonehenge was just a short walk away after a long bus ride, and I was waiting in line for the bathroom to change baby Arienna, when I felt something warm on my hip... when I removed Arienna from that spot, I discovered she had graced my shirt with the overflow of her diaper, how lovely! The bus was already locked up with diaper bag containing extra clothes inside, and would be locked until an hour later, so, guess what? We changed her, and let the pee air dry as we strolled around contemplating a 5000-year-old wonder of the world. And the world didn't end. However, it was quite difficult to take in the wonder of this ancient landmark while bus-weary preschoolers were trying to burn energy, refusing to cooperate to take perfectly smiley pictures for the memory books we'll be reviewing for years to come, and even downright defying anything we asked of them. As usual, the dandelions with seeds to blow were way more interesting than some boring rocks piled on top of each other, and that we weren't even allowed to go and climb on, what was the big deal anyways? Actually, Eliana did find it at least a little interesting, because they have Stonehenge in one of the Little Einsteins episodes. 

On the bus ride back home, thought about what an imperfect mother I am to let Arienna's urine dry on my and her clothing, but then decided to forget about it and enjoy the vast fields of glowing yellow flowers blanketing the English countryside, and made up my mind that I now know why they call the Northeastern part of the U.S. New England. There was something very familiar and homey about driving through rural England. Nothing really stood out, except Stonehenge of course, but the rolling hills and clumps of trees did remind me of growing up in New England, so the name makes sense!

Big Ben and Tower Bridge are of course portrayed in Peter Pan and the Tinkerbell movies, so that made those landmarks relevant to the girls. Love seeing things through their eyes! Flashback to our late night taxi ride to our hotel, where we passed Big Ben and Parliament, the London Eye, and the Tower of London, while our kids took turns hanging their heads out the window, and our taxi driver was FRIENDLY! I used to feel that the British were reserved and not very outgoing, until we lived in Norway for three years. Now I find the English politeness and chattiness absolutely refreshing. So our taxi driver narrated our drive as if he were our tour guide, and we enjoyed every minute of it. 

At the Tower of London, Nilson waited in line for us to enter the vault where the crown jewels are displayed, and meanwhile the girls were restless and started playing with stones that were at the base of an oak tree. We paid an entrance fee so they could play with rocks, great! They could not have cared less about the ravens or other castle-y rooms we could have explored, but they sure enough loved checking out the crown jewels. Those were some rocks worth seeing! Trying to explain to them though, this is the biggest diamond you'll EVER see in your life! They did express amazement, but I think they just liked the sparkles and pretty colors! Of course they were hoping we'd buy them one of those! We got back on the conveyer belt to look at the crowns again. Arienna on the other hand just wanted to be let lose. She finally got to take a little stroll inside a small castle room while we waited for the others to get ice cream. 

We ended up getting ice cream outside the castle instead. Dripped red raspberry popsicle on shirts that they had to wear the rest of the day. Played with a little girl who didn't speak English, who was trying to boss them around, but they wouldn't let her, with Tower Bridge in the background. Weather was some of the hottest temperatures London ever sees, and totally untypical of April. We didn't bring shorts, so the girls had to roll up their pants for ventilation. We took some great photos in front of Big Ben at dusk, each girl posing for their picture, except Evelyn was in a bad mood, so some of her photos came out with adorable grumpy faces. Adorable only after the fact, of course! 

While waiting in front of the London Eye ferris wheel, we were right next to a Middle Eastern family that was also waiting, and seemed to also have four little girls. I tried to make a comment to the mom, but she didn't speak English, so we just smiled and pointed, and I think it got across that between their family and ours, we sure had a lot of girls! We rode on the London Eye at sundown, and it was the perfect time. Eliana took some great photos from there and also earlier on our boat ride on the Thames. Boats never fail to be fun for kids. And a nice chance to sit and relax for mom and dad. 

I almost lost my mind due to my constant state of trying to be aware of where all four girls were at all times. The underground train was totally nerve-wracking to me. I held onto their hands so tight. But they were very good at "minding the gap", jumping into the train when we said, "GO!" and even holding onto the bars if there was no room to sit. Couldn't ask for more adventuresome, happy-traveling troopers! Although there was still plenty of crying and tired legs throughout the trip, and massive half-hour meltdowns about things like, heaven forbid, not letting Alyssa get down from the bus seat without my help, for example. 

The Museum of Natural History was a huge hit with the girls. They had an awesome dinosaur display, where they could touch dinosaur fossils, and even a meteorite. They stopped at every single display, and I went nuts trying to keep track of them, but they were having a blast. We took a photo with a life-size model of a blue whale, much bigger than a bus, and yes, it made even me look small, thank you very much, and we also saw their bones hanging from the ceiling. We went into a butterfly tent, where Eliana was illegally catching butterflies left and right. Not grabbing them, of course, but putting her finger under their legs. That was probably their highlight of London. 

By day four, I was totally fried, and had to agree with Nilson that we would handle two kids each at any given time, and I would stop driving myself insane trying to keep my eyes on four kids. About to go totally cross-eyed. At least between two parents we do have four hands. I had to make a conscious decision to settle down. The train ride from London directly to Disney, going under the English Channel, was actually enjoyable, except for the toddler nearby who cried every time her mom didn't put her down and let her just start wandering away, how dare she? That was pretty much the whole trip. She must have been delightful at Disney, ha ha! Okay, I'll be quiet, my kids aren't perfect either. 

Disney Paris at Easter time was, well, crowded... full of people with kids, who didn't seem to care at all that everyone else was there with kids too, and would cut and push in line whenever they had the opportunity, even if that meant knocking your kids around a little. I don't know how many times I had to tell my kids, yes, I know, it wasn't nice that they didn't stop and say sorry, some people are just not nice. And let's not talk about the short bus ride between our hotel and Disney. Those of you who know Nilson can picture the Venezuelan in him rising up and taking over! And since our kids have been raised in Norway for the past three years, well, they held their own! If there were any seats left to be claimed on the bus, they found them in a jiffy. One time we were treated to the sight of an elderly lady standing up from her wheelchair to get on the bus, only to be knocked backwards by someone rudely pushing onto the bus. She was caught by her family members, but once she got into the bus, I got to hear her telling that guy, "You shut your mouth, young man!" Which is elderly-speak for a much more colorful choice of words, I'm sure! Once again, gotta love the polite British. 

I can now proudly, or perhaps insanely say, we have reached the top of the Eiffel Tower with four children ages 6 and under. Oh, and I knocked poor Arienna's head on the top of the elevator door, as onlookers gasped, while trying to get her off my shoulders as she was throwing a fit. More reflections about my imperfect mothering. Eliana had some appreciation that we were at the REAL Eiffel Tower. More importantly, though, they each had to get a colored Eiffel Tower souvenir. And it was much more entertaining to them to watch the gold-painted man at the base of the tower who was waiting for coins to be tossed into his bucket. Yes, that's right, a leaf-covered, gold-painted man, holding a golden leafy stick that made crazy squeaky noises whenever you gave him a coin... HUH? But the girls totally loved it. And they loved that their hands were golden after shaking his hand, and that he put some gold dust on their noses. Bizarre, but to them, awesome. They even shared some gold dust with Arienna. That is the sum total of sight-seeing in Paris that we felt we could handle with four munchkins!

So we headed back to Disney, and the long, pushy lines. The girls didn't seem to care about the long waits at all. It's just the parents who would prefer a hard punch in the face. It didn't matter to them that we waited an hour and half for two minutes with Rapunzel. Evelyn told me with great disappointment last night, while watching the movie, "Of course I forgot to give Rapunzel a flower!" Eliana asked me if Rapunzel's hair glows in real life. I'm a very literal person I guess, and I have so much trouble answering those questions! Nilson's like, for crying out loud, just say yes! Stop being a dream smasher! 

The birthday lunch at Cinderella's cottage with princesses was simply magical, and the attention to service and friendliness was welcome even to us old adults, in the midst of the European Disney madness. Guess they darn well had to give some good service for those prices! Arienna fell completely in love with the human-sized mice at Cinderella's place. She would see them across the room and start screeching with excitement. Then, when one mouse made it over to her high chair to hug her and make silent "she's so cute" gestures by clasping her mousy hands together, then Arienna would spot the other mouse across the room and start screeching for her to come too! She wanted them both at once. 

Princess Belle and the Beast (but only after he became a handsome Prince, to Eliana's great disappointment) came by to autograph the girls' books, and the Beast commented to Evelyn, "Shall I sign with the pink pencil?" And Belle said, "Pink, like a princess!" And with a stifled chuckle the Beast said, "That's always been my motto!" I got quite a giggle out of that one. I loved how the girls would run up to Ariel to get her autograph and hug her, and poor Prince Eric was right there, looking plasticly handsome, trying to add his unsolicited autograph as well. 

Nilson and I first traveled to Europe ten years ago, including visits to Paris and London and a train ride under the Channel, still newlyweds after two years of marriage. Now, ten years later, we visit those places again together, only with four extra little people in tow. A very different experience of Europe, indeed. Perhaps many would think we are completely bonkers for attempting such trips with four small girls who will barely remember, if at all. But we wouldn't have it any other way. We love our almost fool-hardy determination to be adventurous, even as our family grows, and though we are getting older, we don't intend to get old and boring anytime soon. Do we enjoy every second of it? Um, no, it's tiring, emotionally draining, and frustrating. We come home and collapse. And please, do not ask if I've caught up with the laundry yet, that's depressing! But it's also wonderful, and we know we are blessed beyond anything we could have ever earned. Our thanks go Up for everything. 

Divine Dandelions

Starting a blog has been in my heart for some time now. My friend Andrea has been the one to keep encouraging and nudging me to get it going! I am calling it Divine Dandelions, because my everyday life as a mother is as ordinary and regular as the globally common dandelion.

Motherhood is the normal calling of most women on earth, chosen or not. Anyone can do it, no qualifications required, no trophies for best performance, no company bonuses for a job well done. Indeed, it is a messy, unglamorous life. Chewed cookie smudges noticeably decorate our black t-shirts. Dining tables are turned into art centers, strewn with drawings of smiling suns, rainbows and cut-out clouds, amid piles of unopened mail and unsorted school work, while the silver candle holders get jostled from their rightful place. All three laundry baskets, the one in the bathroom, the one in the bedroom, and the one in the laundry room are overflowing, even though laundry folding, washing, and putting away has been a continuous project all week. Because it's the weekend, the kids have worn the same outfits since Friday, including one daughter in a black leotard and tights that she would wear for a week if I let her. Besides, it helps cut down on the laundry.

So many of us around the globe endure the same never-ending mundane chores and the constant chorus of "mommy, mommy". We are all eternally fighting to stay in control but always feeling one step behind. We easily lose sight of the forever treasure that we hold and mold. The miracle of the love between a man and woman creating new life. The divine shining into our lives with the arrival of a brand new person, whom we can't fathom that just a couple months or years ago, she did not yet exist. We are sure that she has always been and always will be the owner of a chunk of our souls.

More than anyone, I need to remind myself while drowning in my own complaining and feeling that I just can't do all of this, that this is the life I wanted, I asked for this blessing of being a mother, even a stay-at-home mother. At one time, I wasn't sure I could even have children. Now, four daughters later, I am surrounded by giggling, snuggling, constantly chattering, whining, crying, snotting, diaper-changing,  quarreling, finger-sucking, sweet-smiling, crumb-making, drawing, painting, learning, growing, heart-stealing, dazzling little people who have for some incredible reason been entrusted to my care to help them find their way and their purpose on this planet. They are my divine dandelions, completely normal little girls with the magic glow of forever in their faces. And this is my divine dandelion of a life, entirely regular, yet delightfully sprinkled with golden fairy dust from heaven-- dispersed with divine joy, flavored with foreverness, enfolded under the cozy wing of God's Spirit. Our own little haven of heaven's happiness and peace, even though it gets messy and noisy in here!