Stripped of Invincibility

Today's post is not a happy one.  In fact, it's far from it.  I'm digging deep into my heart.  What I'm about to type are my true feelings.  My raw emotions.  It's just one of those days for me.  I feel I'll have many more like this throughout the holiday season.

Thanksgiving afternoon I went with my family, including my Grandma, to visit Grandpa.

As we drove through Jefferson Barracks Cemetery, I was getting nauseous. I hadn't been to visit him yet.  The last time I was here was at his burial, which was held under a tent.  I didn't know where his grave site was.  We were following my family.  They pulled over and Nick pulled our car over in front of them.  I began crying.  Nick got out, waited a little bit, then came to my side of the car and opened the door.  He told me my family was out of their cars and waiting.  But I wasn't ready. "I can't do this.  I don't want to do this."  He rubbed my back and whispered, "I know."  I took a few deep breaths, wiped my eyes, and put on my strong face.  I needed to be strong for Grandma.  

Grandma, who hadn't seen us since August, greeted us with a hug and kiss, held my hand, and we made our way to Grandpa's headstone.

Seeing his name.  On a headstone.  It wasn't right.  He shouldn't be there.  It's not his time.  This cannot be real.  I just wanted to run back to our car, drive to Thanksgiving, and walk in to see my Grandpa smiling at me, giving me a big hug.  Knowing that wouldn't be happening, that it would never happen again...it took everything in me to not buckle and fall to the ground.  Grandma came to stand beside me and held my hand.  Hard.  I love this woman so much.  I'm hurting far beyond words.  Yet, I cannot imagine how badly she is hurting.  Which makes me hurt even more.  It just seemed like a nightmare.  A living nightmare I will never wake from.  Grandpa is gone.  Forever.

I will be 100% honest and tell you I'm not doing well with his passing.  I feel many emotions.  The strongest of two being anger and sadness.

I'm angry.  Angry that he was taken so suddenly.  Angry that the doctor told us we'd have at minimum one to two years, if he didn't respond to treatment.  We had two months.  TWO MONTHS!  I was confident he was going to beat this cancer.  But in the off chance I was wrong, I had told myself to thoroughly enjoy Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, summer vacation, etc with him.  To call more often.  To take more photos.  To write down more of his stories.  To walk in the Survivor Lap that April.  He promised.  He promised me he'd walk that Survivor Lap with me, holding my hand.  The "Cancer Buddies".  Grandpa with his "Cancer Coach".  But I was stripped of all of that.  I didn't get any of it!  Why?!  I'm so angry.  I was supposed to have at least one more of each holiday with him, at minimum.  I feel robbed.  I don't care that he was in my life for 29 years.  Yes, that is a long time.  But I want more.  I need more time.  I need my Grandpa.  Yes, I'm beyond grateful for the many years, I had.  I know it's more than a lot of people get.  But that's doesn't mean I'm okay with death or feel I had enough time.  Because I'm not and I don't.
How do you move on in life without one of the strongest, most intelligent, and definitely most kind-hearted people you've ever known?  I just don't know how.  And that just fuels my anger.  I shouldn't have to figure out how.  He should still be here.

I'm angry that Grandpa's last few months were awful.  He was in so much pain.  So much discomfort.  I'm angry because he's the type of person who shouldn't suffer.  Ever.  But just go peacefully in his sleep.  Back in June, when he went in for surgery, we knew the severity of his surgery (they removed half of his lower jaw).  We knew life after surgery was going to be very rough.  And we knew cancer treatments would be even more rough.  And this sounds weird and awful, but we prayed that if he wasn't going to beat cancer, to just let God take him during surgery.  From a heart attack or something of the like.  No pain.  No suffering.  But he made it.  And we are a family that strongly believes in prayer.  We took this answering of a prayer to mean Grandpa was going to beat this.  Of course he would.  He was the strongest person we knew.  And when he bounced back form surgery so well we all thought,  "He's got this".

I'm angry at the nurse for brushing his symptoms off.  I'm angry at us for not taking him to the hospital sooner, even when we knew the nurse was wrong.  I'm angry when we finally got him to the ER, his infection was too bad and he was already in septic shock.  

Anger.  Lots of anger.

I'm overcome with guilt.  I should have come home more often.  I should have called more often.  I should have taken more pictures with him, of him, and him with Grandma.  I should have recorded his stories.  I should have written down all the advice he's given me.

But I'm new to this.  You see, my Grandpa is the first person I was incredibly close to that has passed away.  {My Dad's mother passed away when I was in high school.  And I loved her dearly.  I miss her greatly.  But we were not as close as I am with my mother's parents.  I hadn't matured yet by the time she passed.  I didn't get to sit with her and tell her all about my life and laugh and joke with her the way I did and do with my maternal grandparents.  I wasn't old enough to bridge that gap between Grandma and friend like I had with my Mom's parents.  My (maternal) grandparents babysat us.  Took us out and about all the time, doing fun things all over St. Louis.  We got together for so many family gatherings.  We vacationed with them.  We had a very close and unique bond.

But what I'm about to say is the main reason behind why I am having such a hard time with his death.

As I said, my Grandpa was the first person I was very close with to pass away.  And while I am deeply saddened by his death, it also stirred up a lot of other deeply saddening emotions.  It wasn't until now that I realized my family, my loved ones, are not invincible.  Everyone near and dear to my heart will leave this earth.  Sure, I know we as human are not immortal.  But in my world, until Grandpa's death, we were.  I had never lost anyone I was this close to.  It truly wasn't a thought I had.  Grandpa's passing was a hard realization that this sadness will not stop here.  Instead, it will only increase.  Grandpa was the first person I lost, but not the last.  In time, that number will grow.  The nauseating emptiness I feel from not having my Grandpa anymore will only grow as I lose more loved ones.  My Grandma is going to pass away.  My own beloved parents.  My aunts and uncles.  My siblings that also double as my best friends.  My cousins.  My best friends that have become family.  My own sweet husband.  This thought, this realization that my family has now been stripped of it's invincibility, fills me with so much sadness that it's literally nauseating.  I can barely handle the loss of Grandpa.  I will not have recovered from his passing before another loved one passes.  I know that for a fact.  The hole in my heart is going to grow larger and larger.  And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. I'm hopeless in this battle.  Loss has been the hardest thing I've ever dealt with.  Because it's inevitable and infinite.  And knowing I will do it many, many more times fills me with feelings that are incapable of being put into words.  I want to retreat back to the time when I had my entire family on this earth and I lived in a fairytale where we were invincible.  Where death could not touch any of us.  I'm having a hard time accepting this reality of the world we live in.  A world that steals our loved ones.  A world where my family is not invincible.