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.
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