Granddad Passed

Today, my Granddad passed away. Two days ago we received news from my Oma that he had been hospitalized. This wasn't the first time, so it was difficult to gauge severity. We got a better idea when she followed up by saying that the doctors were going to try to keep him alive long enough for her to see him.

It was an unfortunate coincidence that Oma was in New York at the time. It's a rare occurence that she isn't in the retirement residence with Granddad. She got an emergency flight and managed to return home that night, in what would turn out to be ample time.

The doctors estimated he could live anywhere between a few hours and a few days. It turned out to be the latter, which gave my mother the chance to ride in the next day and be there for his last evening and morning.

At the time of his passing, he was with his wife and two daughters. He had been listening to his favourite piece, "Mahler - Symphony No. 2", which I am listening to as I write this. It's an hour and a half long. What I've been told is that he gave his last breath just as the music closed. My aunt made the sweet observation that he carried his favourite music over with him.

Granddad had not been well for a few years. If you've been following my blog, you'll have heard me speak to this. He experienced a sharp cognitive decline after an event that sounded like a stroke, but was ruled out as such by doctors. I thought I may have written about it on here, but looking back, the closest mention I can find of him to the event is when he met Lee-Anne for the first time in 2020. I think I opted not to post anything about it, as he was a fan of my blog and still lucid enough to potentially read it. Not that I had anything mean to say, but it might be awkward to read your grandson talking about your failing health publicly.

I believe I did speak on the topic when I later made a painting of him and posted it on a year-in-review entry. I also mentioned why he couldn't come to mine and Lee-Anne's wedding when I wrote about that as well.

In the past four years, he transitioned from seeming "off" to those that knew him, but passing for normal publicly, to forgetting important details but still able to follow a conversation, to losing his ability to regularly speak and walk.

His mother had fallen to a similar illness in her late life. Before his decline, Granddad made it known that he did not want to live to experience such a state himself. As a University Professor of Sociology, he loved his job so much that he joked that he'd never retire, opting to die mid-lecture. His intellect was obviously very important for him. This made seeing his regression more painful to the people in his network.

But he didn't lose everything. Despite being functionally nonverbal, he could still read aloud and sing. The human brain is fascinating. He held onto a few words that he could use for communication as well. He still obviously loved socializing and having company over. He would smile contentedly eating lunch with his family and look to each of us with what seemed like recognition.

Growing up I always knew him to have a strong focus on physical health. His efforts may explain why he showed such resiliency even as he cognitively waned. However, his discipline did eventually slip, revealing a secret love of ice cream.

Lee-Anne speculates that somewhere deep down, he was waiting for his daughters to be okay before letting go. My mother had lost her home in a fire this year, as I've spoken to. After four months of living with us, we managed to lease her a new apartment. She'd continued to stay at our place though, finding the new residence daunting in its emptyness. Last week we finally moved her stuff out of storage and some people gave a few pieces of furniture. This made it comfortable enough that she was willing to move in with her two cats.

She's been there about a week. Maybe Granddad felt he could move on now that Mom has found stability. It's a nice thought.