On Tuesday, May 5th, my grandfather died. He was 86 years old. He died a peaceful death at home with two of his daughters by his side, the end of a long struggle with cancer. As a lifelong atheist, he requested that we have no ceremonies for his death.
Grandpa actually had been in relatively good health until about the last two months. He was too weak to do hiking or golfing any more, but he still had mental clarity and greatly enjoyed reading and conversing. The last two months were harder and he finally asked for help. My Aunt Di, my Aunt Karen, and my mom all met at his house and worked out a schedule. My Aunt Di does not have scheduled work so she took three weeks on and one week off. My mom arranged to cover the one week rotation for as long as needed.
This was a hard time for my mom, not just because her dad was dying, but because of her relationship with her sister. My Aunt Di thinks about family and the world very differently from my mom and that has led to a strained relationship. Having to work together under these circumstances has been very draining for my mom. A small illustration: two sisters in their dying father’s kitchen. Di making the roast chicken she had cooked that week into a pot of soup. They are talking about their dad and what they can do to help him and help each other. Di finishes the soup, looks at my mom and says “What are you having for dinner?”
So, my sister and I planned to visit mom during her next week. We bought plane tickets to fly in and see her on May 7th. On May 1st, Aunt Di called to let us know that the grandpa had decided he was done, and the hospice nurse was putting him on a drip that would reduce his anxiety and, basically, keep him asleep until he died. On May 4th mom drove down to grandpa’s. She was up until 2am with Grandpa and gave him his late night dose of morphine, then finally got some sleep. She woke about 6am when grandpa’s breathing changed. He died about 7:30am.
When my mom called me, I was in the shower, so she left me a message. Since I woke, a song had been running through my head. As I got dressed, I realized what song it was. “What an odd song to be singing!” I thought, and then I got the phone message. The song going through my head was, “go tell aunt Rhodie, go tell aunt Rhodie, go tell aunt Rhodie, the old gray mare is dead.” I haven’t heard that song in years.
Mom asked me and Summer to still fly out. Brad drove me to the airport in Sacramento on Thursday and I got into Santa Barbara mid-morning. We spent the day catching up, visiting with Aunt Di and Uncle Lynn, getting some things done around Grandpa’s house, and making plans for a gathering the next day that Grandpa’s neighbor and dear friend Lee was planning. The house was oppressive, what with Di worrying, and Lynn in fix-it mode, and mom worn out from the waiting and the death and the company.
We decided to go to the beach and then out for ice cream. Back at the house, we had some quiet time, resting in the heat of late afternoon, talking about what needed to be done. We knew there was a fire, but it was on the other side of town, up in the mountains. We could see the smoke, slow columns of clouds up and away to the south. Fires happen in the Santa Barbara mountains fairly regularly, they are a fact of life, and so we put it out of mind.
My dad and his wife called and asked us to out to dinner, and we accepted. When we came out from dinner, everything had changed. The smoke clouds had merged into one huge cloud that took up a whole half of the sky. It loomed over us, and we could actually see flames on the mountain. As we watched, the fire rushed across the mountain, towards our side of town. The wind was crazy. We bought some boxes and when we got back we decided to pack up what we could since the fire had obviously taken a large turn for the worse. We got a lot of items packed up in our car and in Grandpa’s mustang. Di and Lynn showed up with their truck and helped us pack more. Then we got the first reverse 911 call letting us know that we were in a potential evacuation zone.
Summer was due to fly in at 11:45pm and we didn’t know if we would be allowed back into the neighborhood. We tried calling hotels—everything was booked. The news said that 8,000 had been evacuated. We watched television reports, trying to decide what to do. Di and Lynn agreed to stay at grandpa’s until we came back. That way if the evacuation order came they could call us and tell us not to come back. Summer’s plane got in early—we met her at the gate and told her, “Welcome to Santa Barbara! We’re driving home.”
About that time we got the message from Di that the evacuation order had come. She also let us know that my dad had called looking for us and asked us to call. They said they were all ready to put us up for the night. That was much better than starting the drive back home at midnight, and they live only five minutes from the airport. We had breakfast with them in the morning and then just started home. It was pretty squishy in the car, what with all of our gear and some of grandpa’s stuff too.
It had been a hectic 24 hours for us all so we decided to stop at the beach and spend a little time soaking up the sun and re-energizing. Still, it was a very long drive home and we were all very happy to get to Chico.
Years ago, when my grandma died, it was two days after my grandpa evacuated her from another Santa Barbara fire. I think it is only fitting that his death was also met by fire.
Grandpa actually had been in relatively good health until about the last two months. He was too weak to do hiking or golfing any more, but he still had mental clarity and greatly enjoyed reading and conversing. The last two months were harder and he finally asked for help. My Aunt Di, my Aunt Karen, and my mom all met at his house and worked out a schedule. My Aunt Di does not have scheduled work so she took three weeks on and one week off. My mom arranged to cover the one week rotation for as long as needed.
This was a hard time for my mom, not just because her dad was dying, but because of her relationship with her sister. My Aunt Di thinks about family and the world very differently from my mom and that has led to a strained relationship. Having to work together under these circumstances has been very draining for my mom. A small illustration: two sisters in their dying father’s kitchen. Di making the roast chicken she had cooked that week into a pot of soup. They are talking about their dad and what they can do to help him and help each other. Di finishes the soup, looks at my mom and says “What are you having for dinner?”
So, my sister and I planned to visit mom during her next week. We bought plane tickets to fly in and see her on May 7th. On May 1st, Aunt Di called to let us know that the grandpa had decided he was done, and the hospice nurse was putting him on a drip that would reduce his anxiety and, basically, keep him asleep until he died. On May 4th mom drove down to grandpa’s. She was up until 2am with Grandpa and gave him his late night dose of morphine, then finally got some sleep. She woke about 6am when grandpa’s breathing changed. He died about 7:30am.
When my mom called me, I was in the shower, so she left me a message. Since I woke, a song had been running through my head. As I got dressed, I realized what song it was. “What an odd song to be singing!” I thought, and then I got the phone message. The song going through my head was, “go tell aunt Rhodie, go tell aunt Rhodie, go tell aunt Rhodie, the old gray mare is dead.” I haven’t heard that song in years.
Mom asked me and Summer to still fly out. Brad drove me to the airport in Sacramento on Thursday and I got into Santa Barbara mid-morning. We spent the day catching up, visiting with Aunt Di and Uncle Lynn, getting some things done around Grandpa’s house, and making plans for a gathering the next day that Grandpa’s neighbor and dear friend Lee was planning. The house was oppressive, what with Di worrying, and Lynn in fix-it mode, and mom worn out from the waiting and the death and the company.
We decided to go to the beach and then out for ice cream. Back at the house, we had some quiet time, resting in the heat of late afternoon, talking about what needed to be done. We knew there was a fire, but it was on the other side of town, up in the mountains. We could see the smoke, slow columns of clouds up and away to the south. Fires happen in the Santa Barbara mountains fairly regularly, they are a fact of life, and so we put it out of mind.
My dad and his wife called and asked us to out to dinner, and we accepted. When we came out from dinner, everything had changed. The smoke clouds had merged into one huge cloud that took up a whole half of the sky. It loomed over us, and we could actually see flames on the mountain. As we watched, the fire rushed across the mountain, towards our side of town. The wind was crazy. We bought some boxes and when we got back we decided to pack up what we could since the fire had obviously taken a large turn for the worse. We got a lot of items packed up in our car and in Grandpa’s mustang. Di and Lynn showed up with their truck and helped us pack more. Then we got the first reverse 911 call letting us know that we were in a potential evacuation zone.
Summer was due to fly in at 11:45pm and we didn’t know if we would be allowed back into the neighborhood. We tried calling hotels—everything was booked. The news said that 8,000 had been evacuated. We watched television reports, trying to decide what to do. Di and Lynn agreed to stay at grandpa’s until we came back. That way if the evacuation order came they could call us and tell us not to come back. Summer’s plane got in early—we met her at the gate and told her, “Welcome to Santa Barbara! We’re driving home.”
About that time we got the message from Di that the evacuation order had come. She also let us know that my dad had called looking for us and asked us to call. They said they were all ready to put us up for the night. That was much better than starting the drive back home at midnight, and they live only five minutes from the airport. We had breakfast with them in the morning and then just started home. It was pretty squishy in the car, what with all of our gear and some of grandpa’s stuff too.
It had been a hectic 24 hours for us all so we decided to stop at the beach and spend a little time soaking up the sun and re-energizing. Still, it was a very long drive home and we were all very happy to get to Chico.
Years ago, when my grandma died, it was two days after my grandpa evacuated her from another Santa Barbara fire. I think it is only fitting that his death was also met by fire.
4 comments:
Oh, Nikki - I am so sorry to hear about your grandfather. Having gone though the dying process with my father last fall and having a difficult sister to deal with, I can understand what your mom was and is going through.
Isn't it interesting about the fire? And, the song. For about 6 or 7 weeks after Dad died, I kept hearing the music and lyrics of "I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places" which is a song that was very popular in the 1940s, during the war. Probably a song that meant a lot to my parents when my Dad went overseas.
I miss my Dad like crazy, but also feel he is happy to be with Mom. Just one more spirit to watch over me.
Your family is in my thoughts.
So sorry to hear about your grandpa's passing. It sounded about as peaceful as one could wish-after a long life and with family. It is sad that the family "stuff" has to get in the way, but hard times certainly don't fix stuff that has been there for years. Thanks for sharing some of the things like the song and the fire-you have always been so good about finding the meaning and synchronicity in life. Hugs to you and your mom.
Nikki,
I was very sorry to hear about your granddads passing. I know he was special to you and a great soul. A gifted mind, who lived an honest life.
Nikki~ I haven't been around to your blog in ages...I am sorry about your grandpa. :( It sounds like he went like he would have wanted to, and that he was ready to go. I know you miss him, but I am glad that you were able to spend time with him before he went.
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