The Significance Behind the 5 o'clock Manhattan

Everyone has a signature 'something'.  Maybe it's a laugh, or a personality trait.  Maybe it's a tv show or a dessert.  Grandpa's was his 5 o'clock Mahattan.  Every evening, he'd make his Mahattan, usually using Early Times Kentucky Whiskey and Martini Sweet Vermouth, and set it in the fridge to chill.  Then right at 5pm, he'd take it out and sip on it for the next hour or more.
Every.Single.Night
Even when Grandma was in the hospital for her bypass, his Mahattan makings were in a cooler in the car.

But Grandpa wasn't the only one who loved Manhattan's.  His siblings, two of whom have passed before him, also loved Manhattans.

One year ago yesterday, Grandpa left us to be with Jesus.  You can read about what happened in more detail if you look back to last August, but essentially, Grandpa's cancer weakened his immune system, he got c-diff, and in a matter of two days, passed away.

When he passed away, we were all surrounding his bedside.  His wife, his two daughters and two sons, their husbands and wives, myself, my brother, my sister, and my four cousins.  All 16 of us, around him, holding hands, praying, laughing and sharing memories of Grandpa.  At 4:58pm, Grandpa took his last breath and left this world.  He left with just enough time to pass through the pearly gates, where I'm sure he was greeted by his siblings, handing him a chilled Manhattan just in time for 5 o'clock.

The Manhattan has since become the signature drink of our family.  Following Grandpa's funeral, we all gathered at my uncle's house where we mixed up a pitcher of Manhattans and about 25 of us all toasted to Grandpa and went around the room saying something, whether it be something we'll miss, a great memory, or just kind words about Grandpa.

We found ourselves sipping on them at Thanksgiving, Christmas, Father's Day, and again on April 15th, his birthday.

And last night, at 5pm, Nick and I toasted to Grandpa.

At 5 o'clock, one year ago, Grandpa became our guardian angel.  And our lives have never been the same since.


We love you, Grandpa.  And we're slowly learning to love these (awful) drinks.

(My mother and her sister visited Grandpa yesterday evening and had a Manhattan with him.  I'm sure it just made his day.)

One Year Later & I Still Believe His Place Is Here On Earth

Today is the one year anniversary of my Granpa's passing.
The day (and the funeral) still haunt me.  I still vividly remember the many days spent in the hospital.  Visions of Grandpa laying in his bed, fighting for his life are always flooding my mind. Still making me incredibly sick to my stomach.

Realizing this was the end and having to say goodbye to the greatest man I've ever known has been, by far, the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
I miss him.  So badly.
I still cry.  Often.  My heart aches and that ache has not subsided.
I think about him daily.  I still have a hard time calling my Grandma; for fear she won't answer and I'll hear his voice on the answering machine and for fear of ending the conversation without asking to speak to Grandpa.  For 28 years, I was able to say "Can I talk to Grandpa?" and he'd be on the other end.  It's difficult to not have that anymore.

Living away from home, I think it's been more difficult for me to accept that Grandpa is gone.  I'm still adjusting to life without him.  Having lived away from St. Louis for over three years now, my time back home is restricted to only a few visits a year.  The majority of my time since Grandpa has passed has been back in Florida.  My life here in Florida has never consisted of Grandpa, so living a life here has always been a life without him.  I have only been home four times since Grandpa passed.  That is not enough time to adjust.  Each time I go home, I walk into their house, still expecting to see him sitting in his recliner.  It still takes my breathe away when Grandma enters a house, solo.  It's difficult to not take our traditional 'grandparents and grandchildren' photo at the holidays.  Now, it's just 'Grandma and grandkids'.  I'm still not used to visiting Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery if I want to visit my Grandpa.  After one year, I'm simply not adjusted to life in St. Louis not containing Grandpa.

I still have a lot of emotions over his death.  Aside from extreme sadness, I'm still angry.  It's just not fair.  I know, 'life isn't fair.'  But this wasn't fair.  Sure, he was 82, but he was a very healthy 82 years old.  This came out of nowhere.  Then, we were told that worst case scenario, he would have one, maybe two years left with us.  And just two months later, he very quickly passed away.  Why?  Why did this happen so suddenly?!

After his passing, like with any passing, people try to offer you words of comfort.  A common phrase, that I know was meant to bring me comfort, instead brought me anger.  It was "He's in a better place."
No, I call bullshit.  I'm sorry, but I do.  Yes, I'm a Christian and I believe in Heaven.  However, I've never been there so I can't really say how glorious it is.  None of here on earth can.
What I can tell you is that Grandpa loved his family.  Dearly.  There was nothing that man loved more than when any of his grandkids called to chat, or when we stopped in for a visit.  He lived for the holidays when we were all gathered together.  My family is obnoxiously close so it was often that my aunts, uncles, and cousins all gathered with my grandparents for birthdays, holidays, or even random game nights.  Grandpa was a very silly and witty man, always cracking jokes.  But he could also be seen, sitting back, just smiling, watching his family talk and laugh.  The love Grandpa had for us all shown through, very easily, in that smile.  He did not see his in-law children as in-laws.  They were just additional sons and daughters.  He has taken in his grandkids' significant others as his own as well.  Nick was not a grandson-in-law to him.  Grandpa loved Nick, so much; as much as any of his blood grandchildren.  He loved us all.  He had a way of making each of us feel as if we were his favorite.  He adored us all.
And in turn, we all adored him.  He was the rock for our family.  He was the one we all chose to go to for advice, no matter the subject.  He taught us so many lessons and instilled so many of the core values and morals that govern our lives.  There is, without a doubt, a lot of Grandpa in every member of our family, even those that married in.
Family was Grandpa's world, especially his wife.  The love Grandpa and Grandma had is one that every person in life wishes for.  After 49 years of marriage, (just a few shy of 50), they were still so madly in love.  They had a love that you could see with every action, every spoke word, and every look exchanged between the two.  The love you see in movies and wonder if it really exists?  The love in those movies that you say "I want that.  I hope I have that well into my 80's" ?  That is the love they had.

So do not tell me he's in a better place.  That phrase, at least right now, does not bring my comfort.  In Grandpa's world and in our world, the best place he could be is here, on earth, surrounded by his adoring family.  Laying on the couch cuddling with his wife every night, watching the Cardinals game.  Sitting around a table with his kids and grandkids playing Hand & Foot.  Sitting in his chair, watching his family open Christmas gifts.  Laughing at our obnoxious happy birthday singing.  Here.  With us.  In the flesh.
Grandpa fought hard to remain here with us all.  And there's a reason for that.  He wanted to be here with us.
Here, with his family, is the "better" place.  There is no better place than surrounded by your family.

I'm sorry, I just don't find comfort in those words, "He's in a better place".  Maybe I should.  But I don't.  I'm sure he's loving Heaven, reunited with his parents, siblings, and friends who have passed before him.  But I know without a doubt that he misses us all.  I know he's inside each of us and watching over us.  And that does bring me comfort.  Don't get my wrong.  I am comforted knowing he's my guardian angel now.  But dammit, his place is here with us!  With family is the "better" place.


I do realize how blessed we were to have a happy and healthy life with him.  I'm blessed that my Grandpa lived well into my 28th year.  I know many aren't as fortunate.  I'm even more blessed to have had the relationship with Grandpa that I did.
Additionally, I am blessed to have the family I have to help each other through this.  Having them has made this all easier.
But at the same time, having such a close and amazing family is what has made this hard.  It's a catch-22 almost.  Having this closeness and having such an amazing man in our life has only made his passing that much harder to cope with.  It's made the heartache cut deeper.  The alternative is to have had a Grandpa I was not as close to and thus his passing a little easier to deal with.  I would gladly take the first.  I'm happy to have had him in my life, and the pain of his absence is a constant reminder of just amazing he was and how blessed we were to have him.

Today, at 5pm, Nicholas and I will toast a Manhattan, the drink he had every single evening at 5pm, to Grandpa.  We will cry remembering the greatest man to enter our lives, but we will also have a heart full of love knowing we were blessed enough to call this man our Grandpa.

Grandpa, you have always been and always will be my hero.  For far too many reasons to list here.  One year ago, you traded your cape for wings and my life has not been the same since.  My heart has never known a pain of this magnitude and I'm not sure it will ever heal.  I remember you throughout each day and live to make you proud.  I remember the stories you told us about your childhood and my mother's childhood.  They are stories I hold near and dear to my heart.  I remember the lessons you taught me.  I remember the advice you gave.  I remember the values you taught me.  Every time I remember one of these things, a tear forms in my eye and a smile spreads across my face.  Thank you, for 28 years of wonderful memories.  Thank you, for being the best damn Grandpa anyone could ever have.  I miss you, Grandpa.  I love you.  Until we meet again....

One Month: Grandpa

Today marks one month since this world lost my Grandpa;  a man this world would have been much better off keeping.
I say it's only been a month, but I have to check my iPhone calendar to verify that's correct.  It feels like forever that I was hovering over his body, thanking him for the last 28 years of amazing memories, telling him so deeply I loved him and how badly I would miss him.  It feels like forever ago that I held his hand and gave him one last kiss and told him goodbye.

My world has not been the same.  Thankfully, I've been able to keep incredibly busy with house hunting, packing, and moving.  It's kept my sadness at bay.  But when I lay down at night, when it's just me and my thoughts, the emptiness and pain take over.  I'm completely ridden with sadness and the tears begin flowing.  I miss him so badly.  It's as if the darkness of night also brings in the darkness of my heart.  I can't shake the thoughts.

I knew things would not become easier with his passing for a long while.  But I didn't expect them to get harder.  The calls and texts from friends checking in on me has stopped and it's left me feeling even more empty.  At the same time, I wouldn't want them to continue to harp on my sadness.  It's a lose-lose really.

I just want to talk to him.  I want to share my life updates.  He always loved hearing about our Navy adventures.  It's so hard to call their house and not hear him answer "Yellow?" (He never said Hello").  Or to call, talk to Grandma, knowing I won't end our conversation with my usual "Can I talk to Grandpa?"  I will admit, and am ashamed that I did not call Grandma for a while after I returned to Pensacola.  I was an awful granddaughter.  On the surface, I told myself it was okay because she still had some many family members in town.  But then they left and she was trying to adjust to normal life.  I didn't call.  It took me two weeks to call her after leaving St. Louis.  And it was 100% selfish reasons.  I was scared to call.  Scared to call and get their answering machine, with Grandpa's voice still on it.  Scared to call and talk to her, knowing I would not be talking to Grandpa like I've done the past 10+ years when I call.  Scared that I wouldn't be able to hold it together while talking to her.  The last thing she needs while dealing with this is to comfort me.  So I held off.  For too long.  She needed me.  She enjoyed our phone calls.  I finally realized I needed to suck it up and call her.  Thankfully she answered and the phone call wasn't as hard as I thought.  I did tear up a few times, but not the bawling I thought would occur.  And hearing her sadness eased my mind.
I'm happy to say that since then, I've gotten over my fear to call and talk to Grandma often.  Our conversations brighten my day, especially to know she's doing fairly well, given the circumstances.
But when the conversation ends, I'm stricken with sadness of not talking to him.

Some say, "You can still talk to him".  That's very true.  And I do.  Often.  But it's most absolutely not the same to hear his excitement when I update him on our lives.  It's not the same to hear his encouragement and advice.  It's not the same.  At all.

I miss him.  It hurts.  So badly.  I try to tell myself that it hurts so badly because he was such an amazing man.  Because he was so close to me (and all my family.)  But it doesn't really bring me comfort.  It just angers me that he was taken too soon.  I wanted more time with him.  I wanted my children to meet him.  I didn't want him to just be a story and photos.  I wanted more time with him.
I do realize I was lucky to have him for so long.  But 28 years was not enough.  Honestly, no time would have been enough.  He was truly the best man I knew and no amount of time would have been long enough for me.  It's like that Train song "Forever would never be long enough to feel like I've had long enough with you."

I'm not sure how this healing process should happen.  My grandfather is the first person I was THIS close to pass. I lost my (paternal) grandmother when I was a senior in high school.  But I was prepared for that.  She had been sick almost all of my life.  We had many months and possibly even years of her declining health.  Not to mention, I was nowhere near as close to her as I was Grandpa.  Nowhere near as close.  So this is my REAL first loss.  (Don't get me wrong, I love my Grandma Sally dearly. And I miss her. A lot.  But I cannot deny that I was much closer with my maternal grandparents than my paternal grandmother.)  Being my first real loss, I don't know how to cope.  I don't know what's normal.  I don't know if my constant aching is normal.  I don't know if my constant tears are normal.  I don't know if this pain and nausea from missing him is normal.  I just don't know.

All I know is I miss my hero.  More and more each day.  Each day feels like it becomes harder than the last.  I want him back.  I want to hear his voice.  I want to hug him.  I want to hear his silly jokes.  I want to just sit with him, doing nothing.  I want more time with him.

It's been one month.  Undoubtedly the hardest month of my life.  I miss Grandpa more with each passing minute and he's always on my mind.  Almost everything reminds me of him.  Sometimes it doesn't seem real that he's gone.  But phone calls to Grandma quickly reinforce my reality.  I have never, ever felt a pain and emptiness like I feel now.  I just want my Grandpa back.

Grandpa's Wake & Funeral

Grandpa's wake and funeral were two of the hardest things I have ever done.
The day previous to the wake, we went to the florist to pick out flowers.  How do you do this?  How can you choose the right flowers?  What are the right flowers?  Thankfully, my Grandmother and her children (my mother and her siblings) had already picked out their flower arrangements.  They all decided on red and white...because of Grandpa's love of the St. Louis Cardinals.  (He's the reason we're all huge fans.)  Us grandchildren decided to stick with this theme, even going so far as to get a baseball vase.  Then the florist asked what we wanted on our ribbon.  Grandma picked "Dear Husband" and his kids picked "Loving Father".  We wanted to choose a different word so we asked the florist what else people use.  She said that dear, loving, and beloved were the most commonly used.  My cousins and I all looked at each other with the same disgusted face.  We are not a group to use the word "beloved". We're a loud, crazy, goofy group and we get that goofiness from our Grandpa.  We decided to pick something more "us".  We decided on "Awesome Grandpa".  It's more of our personality and it's really fitting because one of Grandpa's favorite t-shirts says "This is what an AWESOME Grandpa looks like."  We all knew he'd be more than pleased with "Awesome Grandpa" rather than "Beloved Grandfather"....that sounds too formal and classy for us.

After picking out the flowers, we all went back to my aunt and uncle's house and worked on some photo collage posters.  It was great looking through all the photos of us throughout the years.

While doing this, I also worked on the eulogy.  None of my cousins thought they could give a eulogy so I stepped up and said I think I could do it.  I wanted to have the honor of paying a tribute to Grandpa.  I took notes from all my cousins and siblings on things they'd want shared and said about Grandpa.  That evening, I compiled it all into a eulogy from all of us cousins.

Tuesday morning, we headed to the funeral home.  They took our poster boards and quilt

(you can read about the quilt in yesterday's post) into the room for us.  When they were ready, they led us into Grandpa's room.  Grandma went up the casket, with her children, to see Grandpa.  It was heartbreaking to watch her touch his hair and cheek, crying, talking to him.  I cannot believe their {physical} love has come to an end.  It pains me that I will no longer see their love; the greatest love I've ever witnessed.
Then we each took our turns at the casket. I took time alone and it was hard for me to look at him.  People just never look the same in the casket.  Instead, I just laid my hand on his chest and cried.  And wished for more time with him, even though I know it was a pointless plea.

After about 45 minutes, the wake was open for the public.  I had a hard time in the beginning.  Grandma and Grandpa had a HUGE network of friends.  They still hung out with high school couples, college couples, and couples from their neighborhood.  It was amazing to hear about how long their friendships have lasted, how much Grandpa meant to them, and how much he loved us grandkids and talked about us all the time.  What was even more amazing were men around my mother's age introducing themselves to us, telling us my Grandpa coached them (in various sports) when they were very young.  It brought me to tears to know that Grandpa touched them so deeply, that 40+ years later, they still have the fondest memories of him, respected him, thought of him, and wanted to pay their respects to him.
After a while, I became numb.  The tears weren't as frequent.  I did bawl my eyes out a few times.  I saw Josh (for those that don't know, Josh has been my brother's best friend for what seems like forever and I consider him my brother.  He's been there for me, and my family, in ways only family is.  I mean, he even came to our family reunions at the lake!!!) standing in line.  I got out of line to say hi to him and as I was one step away, he opened up his arms to me.  I just fell into them and sobbed and sobbed.  He held me, saying nothing.  It meant a lot to all of us that he traveled in from Columbia to be here for us, especially for my brother.
There were a few others, my best friend Jessie, that I couldn't hold myself together when I saw.  It was just hard.  These people knew just how hard this was for me...for all of us.  They've been a part of our family, attending family events with us,  and loved Grandpa as well.

It's a great thing I did become so numb to this all because the line was out the door all night long, for almost six hours.  It was a true testament to how amazing Grandpa is.  They eventually had to close the doors and cut the line off.  It only made us feel that much more blessed to know this amazing man everyone was here to pay respects to, was our Grandfather (husband and father).  Not a second goes by that we do not recognize this blessing in our lives and feel forever grateful.
That night, we said goodbye to Grandpa and all went home.  We welcomed Josh back to our house for the night and we all sat around drinking and talking, remembering our amazing Grandfather.

I didn't sleep well that night.  I kept crying, thinking about Grandpa laying there alone in that casket.  I know that it's not him, just his body.  I KNOW that, but I couldn't shake the feeling of him being there alone.  It made for a very long and rough night.

The next morning, we all got ready and headed back to the funeral home.  We spent about 30 minutes with Grandpa and then a few close family and friends showed up for a short prayer service.  After the prayer service, we all said our final goodbye to Grandpa.  It was the second hardest thing I've done in my life (the first being saying goodbye to him before he was taken off his machines in the hospital).
Grandma and her children climbed into the limo, while the rest of us climbed in our cars and made our way to Assumption Catholic Church for his funeral.  Grandma, her children, and their spouses filled the first row with my cousins and I behind them.  Thank goodness for my family.  Various times throughout the Mass, I felt a hand on my shoulder, as my brother reached around my cousin to comfort me.  A hand squeezing mine as I cried.  A hand rubbing my back as I leaned forward to cry.  We were all there for one another.  Even Grandma reached back to grab my hand, holding it hard, when I was having a difficult time.

We opened the Mass with the eulogies.  My uncle Gary, speaking on behalf of the siblings, and myself, speaking on behalf of us cousins, decided it'd be best to do it first, when we were still partially composed.  I went first, with my mother, aunt, and two uncles (Grandpa's kids) behind me.  I did a great job and only cried twice, the very two places I knew I would cry during my eulogy.  Thank goodness for my Uncle Gary to whisper "It's okay, take a deep breathe.  No rush" while placing a hand on my back.  I delivered a eulogy that I know Grandpa would be proud of.  I looked at Grandma the entire time and she had a smile on her face throughout it all, occasionally winking at me.  That woman...she's my favorite.
After I finished, I stepped back, as Uncle Gary and his siblings stepped forward.  Their eulogy was very touching.  I heard stories about their childhood that I'd never heard before (which was surprising because my family loves to rehash their younger years!)  Of course, their eulogy also made us all cry.
{After the funeral, I had compliments from so many people about how amazing my eulogy was and how proud and impressed people were with how well I held myself together.  And that they knew Grandpa was proud.  And that's all I wanted.  To make him proud and smile down on me.}
After the Gospel, the priest spoke about Grandpa.  I learned so many things I never knew about him!  I had no idea how deeply involved he was with his parish, starting the Athletic Association, etc.


Following the funeral, we all went to Jefferson Barrack's National Cemetery.  We all gathered around Grandpa's American flag draped casket.  The burial service was performed by sailors, because Grandpa was in the Navy.  After the flag was folded, they passed it off to Kyle, my sister's boyfriend (who is pretty much her husband and loved by my entire family) who is a Warrant Officer in the Army.  He handed the flag off to Grandma and I know it meant a lot to her to have him do that.  After the presentation of the flag was the gun salute, followed by taps.  This now became the second hardest thing in my life.  Hearing this song, was just too sad.  The song itself is depressing and what is symbolizes only makes it worse.  It was the final goodbye.  When it was over, the guests all left.  The family stayed behind to place roses on his casket.  When one of the directors picked up the "Dear Husband" arrangement, a huge red rose broke off and fell to the ground.  My brother immediately said, "That's from Grandpa" and we handed it to Grandma telling her that.  She got the biggest smile on her face and kept it.  We then took turns placing a rose on his casket and saying goodbye to him.
Mom was upset that we were leaving and one of the cemetery directors came up to her and said that he promised he would stay with his casket until he was taken to his burial site and placed in the ground.  We cannot thank him enough as this made us feel much better.

Afterwards, we all went to one of Grandma and Grandpa's favorite restaurants with just our closest family and friends for the luncheon.  Following the luncheon, we all went back to the house to continue to be together, something we all wanted.  At 5pm, we made a pitcher of Manhattans, Grandpa's drink of choice every night at 5pm.  We went around the room, saying something about Grandpa and toasting to him.


That evening, I had to leave my family because I had to catch a plane at 6am, which meant I needed to leave my house around 3:30am.  It was so hard to say goodbye to them all.  I wanted to stay there with people who knew my pain.  I wanted their comfort over the next few weeks.  But I needed to return to my husband, who's soft patch ceremony was the next day.  I needed to get home to him, who was also in pain.  It was really hard for Nick to not be in St. Louis with my family, being there for me, being able to attend Grandpa's wake and funeral. He's happy he was able to spend time with him the previous week, able to say goodbye, but he was pretty upset he couldn't be here.

The goodbye the next morning at the airport was hard.  My parents and I cried quite a bit.  Those two flights were the hardest of my life.  I'm sure people thought I was crazy;  crying in the security line, crying at the gate, crying on the flight, crying exiting the plane, waiting for my next flight, boarding, and flying again.  It was just all too much to handle.

Thankfully my amazing husband was waiting for me right where I exited security and wrapped his arms around me.  His family and sponsors had landed shortly before me so I took a deep breathe to gain some emotional strength and met them at baggage claim.  I was happy they were here for Nick, but also I was selfishly happy they were here for the next few days to distract me from my pain and sadness.

Grandpa's Quilt

When Grandpa was diagnosed with cancer and we learned he'd be undergoing treatment, my family decided to create a quilt for him.  It's something he could cuddle up with and have our support and love wrapped around him.

We each were to make a square, however we wanted, for Grandpa.  We even had extended family all over the country mail in squares.  The plan was to have the quilt squares mailed in to St. Louis so that the quilt could be completed by the time Leah and I came in town for our August trip.  The plan was to give the quilt to Grandpa on August 17th, at my father's 60th birthday party since the entire family would be together for it.

Unfortunately, Grandpa never saw his quilt.  On the 16th, Grandpa went to the emergency room and he was put under anesthesia to have a central line put in.  And he never woke back up.

We brought the quilt to the hospital in hopes that he would recover from the surgery and he could see it.  However, that never happened.
It was so upsetting that we made this quilt for him and we knew he'd absolutely love it and he wasn't able to see it.  We know he saw it the moment he left this world, but we wanted to see his smile (and I'm sure his tears.)   We wanted to see his reaction.  It was so upsetting.

We thought about draping it over him in the ICU, but we couldn't because his c-diff was contagious and that meant the blanket could possibly be carrying the c-diff.

We had the quilt displayed at the wake and contemplated putting it in his casket with him (thinking it might be too hard for any of us to see it) but Grandma then decided she wanted to keep it.  And we all agreed.  While it would be hard to see it laying around their house, it's such a tribute to his love and bond with each one of us.

Nick's quilt square (before being cut to size)

My quilt square (prior to being cut to size)
Grandpa played soccer and softball with me and he's the reason I was, and still am, so into sports.
When I was very little, Grandpa gave me his pillow he had in the Navy.  It's a small, down pillow and I was OBSESSED with it when I was little.  I didn't have a security blanket or a favorite stuffed animal.  My Grandpa pillow was carried with me and I couldn't sleep without it.  I still have this pillow and sleep with it (although I don't cry throughout sleepless nights whenever I'm without it.)

Please take a second to notice my brother's square in the top left photo.  Below is his actual square.

 It's my brother, painting my Grandfather and himself in the photo you see in the corner of that drawing.  My brother is an AMAZING artist and so it was only fitting that he not only draw his own square, but that his quilt square reflect his artistic abilities.  Thanks for showing us all up, Ben!!!
(My brother draws in pencil, scans his drawings on his computer, and then colors and tweaks them with Illustrator and PhotoShop.)

Grandpa's Passing

Sunday the 18th was the hardest day of my life.  That evening, Grandpa left us to be with Jesus.  It was an emotional roller coaster and it all happened so suddenly.

Grandpa had undergone a lot recently with his surgery, recovery, then the strokes.  He was having difficulties eating and was recently put on feeding tube only feedings.  Nothing by mouth. He had underwent one round of chemo and was doing fairly well.  August 8th he had his second round of chemo and that one seemed to knock him down pretty badly.  But that's to be expected as it builds up in you.  With each additional chemo treatment, I remember feeling just as crappy.  But Grandpa seemed to be doing pretty badly.  At first we just figured it was the chemo mixed with his older age and body.  He had started to get really down, wondering if this "shitty" way of life was really worth it all.  Sometimes he'd say it wasn't and other times he'd tell you he wasn't ready to give up.  He wanted to fight.  He told me he wanted to fight.  I was over at my Grandparents' house every second I could be while I was home.  I took over doing his tube feedings, something that made me feel honored knowing he trusted me to do so (he didn't trust many to do this.)  But I could see him weakening.  He was having more and more of the side effects.  One in particular seemed too frequent.  We asked the home nurse that came on Wednesday and she said it was normal.  We still weren't sure so on Thursday, they called the oncologists nurse.  The "side effect card" said 3 episodes in 48 hours was cause to call the doctor.  Grandpa had had 5 in just 20 hours.  But they still told us to wait the 48 hours.  (Why?  Clearly if he's at 5 now, he's already surpassed the 3 in 48 hours.)
On Friday afternoon, things were not any better so my Grandmother called a neighbor who happened to be a nurse.  She came over and told Grandma that he needed to go to the emergency room.  They called 911 and while enroute to his hospital, Mercy, he began vomiting.  This marked him as "unstable" so they had to go to the nearest hospital, St. Anthony's, which was only 3 minutes from their house.
The entire family (minus those out of town, but on their way in town after this call) was there.  Thank goodness our neighbor didn't listen to Grandpa's doctor's nurses and told him to go immediately.  After quite a few tests, while giving Grandpa oxygen and IV hydration and medication, it was discovered that Grandpa had c-diff and sepsis.  He was being moved to the ICU so we all headed up to the third floor ICU waiting room.

While in the waiting room, we were able to visit Grandpa, two at a time.  Eventually the ICU doctor sat us all down, pretty late that night, to tell us that Grandpa was incredibly sick and might not live.  It was not at all what any of us suspected.  The c-diff had taken over his colon.  Grandma, with all of us in agreement, had decided this was it.  He has been through too much, he's ready to give up.
Then the surgeon came to talk to us.  Grandma had pretty much made up her mind about just letting Grandpa go.  But this surgeon said if we remove his colon, he has a 60% chance of survival.  Without surgery, he will die.  There's no doubt about that.  When he learned we weren't sure if we wanted to do the surgery, he asked why. "You've already put him through the mouth surgery and the chemo.  Why put him through all of that to just give up now?"  He was kind of an ass but he seemed very confident so we all sat down to discuss it again and realized he was right.  We were going to go ahead with the surgery because he seemed so confident and 60% was a great chance.  We gave the okay and they began to prep him (getting all his levels where they needed to be) for surgery.
Not too long after, the anesthesiologist came to talk to us.  He had a much different outlook on this all.  He informed us that the surgeon wasn't necessarily looking at the large picture.  That Grandpa "is a very, very sick man."  He told us that the odds of him actually living through the surgery and making it off the table were very slim.  We were crushed.  We had just given the okay and they were prepping him.  Now we're told this was the wrong decision and he won't make it?   We all decided to take turns walking back to his room (where he was now fully sedated and we could not talk to him.  Well, we could talk but he did not respond) and saying goodbye.  However, they called us ALL back at once and they seemed to be rushing.  We knew something was wrong.  He wasn't scheduled for surgery until 1:00pm-2:00pm and now it was 11am and they were rushing to get him in the OR.  After we all left, we stood in the hallway, waiting for them to wheel Grandpa down to the elevator.  We wanted one last look, to say one last goodbye.  We learned that Grandpa's kidneys were failing and his systems were shutting down so he needed to get into surgery immediately if there was any chance he'd survive.  As he was wheeled by, we all told him how much we loved him and cried together.
Thankfully, the surgeon came to see us about an hour later.  He said that Grandpa had made it through surgery but that things didn't look good.  He admitted he was wrong and he should have given us a much smaller percentage of Grandpa making it.  He didn't realize just how sick Grandpa was.  We were told he was moved to the Surgical ICU so we all moved down one floor and waited to see him.

When we saw him, he looked pretty weak.  He was pretty much on life support.  His body was too weak to breathe on his own so he had a breathing tube.  He was on various medicines to regulate so many things...his pH levels were off, his lactic acid was off, his blood pressure was too low, etc.  When one thing would improve, another would decline.  We were told this recovery, or loss, would be an emotional roller coaster.  And it was.  Shit, it already HAD been!
We were ready to let him go.  Had accepted that.  Then the surgeon gave us hope.  So we were optimistic.  Then the anesthesiologist crushed that hope and we were back to tears and mourning.  Then he made it through surgery and we thought "That's the strong Grandpa we know!"  Then we're told he's very weak and still very sick.  Back down again.

Saturday night Grandma was ready to give up.  She knew Grandpa had given up.  She knew this was no way for him to live.  His kidney's still weren't functioning.  Things looked so grim. The doctor, Dr. Pritz, talked to us and said it doesn't look good.  Rock bottom and many tears.  Again.
Then Dr. Stein comes on the night shift and talks to us around midnight, just after Grandma says we are going to let him go.  He says that 24 hours was too soon to give up and there's still hope.  He was starting to regulate his own blood pressure and his pH levels were looking good.  So we decided to keep fighting.
Quite a few of us stayed the night in the ICU waiting room that night.
Early Sunday morning we get word that he's still doing well with his blood pressure and pH levels.  That's the longest he's held steady for something so we were so hopeful!  He'd also produced a small amount of urine so we thought the kidneys might be reversing.

Around 2pm, Dr. Pritz and a lung specialist come to talk to us.  We went from hopeful to this is it.  We needed to make a decision.  Although some things were looking good, it wasn't the right things.  His lactic acid was too high.  The doctor has never seen someone with this high of a level ever live.  Grandpa was in complete kidney failure.  He was still on too many medicines that were keeping him alive.  It was an incredibly hard decision, but we all decided it was time to let Grandpa go.  He had suffered long enough.  He had fought a good fight.  But there was no hope.  He deserved to go with dignity.  He wouldn't recover from this and it wasn't fair to keep him here on earth with us for selfish reasons.  It was the hardest decision we ever made.  But we knew this was what Grandpa would want.  His wishes were to fight as long as he had a fighting chance.  But there was no chance anymore.  His time had come.

We then took turns going into his room to say goodbye.

As I awaited my turn, I was sick to my stomach.  How do I do this?  How do you say goodbye?  How do you say goodbye to your Superhero?  To the greatest man you've ever know?  I couldn't accept that I would never see him again.  Never hear his voice again.  Never hear his corny jokes.  Never hug him again.  This was it.  It was over.
When it was my turn, I went in, held his hand, and just sobbed.  Uncontrollable sobbing, with my head on his chest.  (Mind you, I'm also in a gown, gloves, and a mask because his c-diff is contagious).  I just talked to him.  I thanked him for everything I could think of.  I told him what all I was going to miss about him in my life.  I spoke about the future.  I relived old memories.  I wanted him to squeeze my hand.  Let me know he could hear me.  But nothing.  I realized I needed to stop talking.  It was time to say my final goodbye.  I leaned over, kissed his forehead, and told him how much I loved him and how badly I would miss him.  As I walked down the hallway to the waiting room, sobbing, I thought of a million things I should have said.  I wanted to run back down that hallway, suit up, and sit there again. I wanted more time.  This couldn't really be happening.  Just 6 months ago he was the healthiest man ever!  Not a care in the world.  How did this happen so quickly?!

After everyone had said their individual goodbye, we went in as families.  My Dad, Mom, brother, sister and I went in together.  We laughed about memories, we cried over how badly we'll miss him, and then we prayed together over him.  I cannot begin to explain the heartache I felt watching my mother cry over her father.  Listening to her call him Daddy...telling him she's going to miss him.  Telling him she loves him so much.  I was hurting so badly and here was my mother, losing her father...the most important man in her life.  They were so close.  She was his "Linny-Loo".

After each family had said their goodbyes, we informed the staff we were ready.  All 18 of us gathered outside of his room, putting on gowns, masks, and gloves as the nurses and doctors began taking him off all his medications and taking his breathing tube out.  They would leave him on the pain medications and heavy sedatives.  We wanted him to be completely comfortable and pain-free (he had been feeling zero pain this entire time thanks to the medicine).  When it was all removed and turned off, they left the room and we all surrounded his bedside, hand-in-hand.  Being the Catholic family we are, we prayed together.  We started with the Our Father, then the Hail Mary, then a Glory Be.  We ended with the Eternal Rest prayer.  Afterwards, we all talked to him.  We shared memories and laughs.  We told him what we would miss.  We told him we'd take care of each other, especially Grandma.  The room was filled with so much love and so much laughter.  Even during this time, my family was laughing, thinking of the amazing memories of him.  For instance, every single day, at 5pm, Grandpa has a Manhattan.  (Even when Grandma had knee surgery, he had his Manhattan makings in the car in a cooler!)  We joked that it was 4:55pm and he needed to go meet his sister, his Manhattan buddy, who passed away a little over a year ago, for a drink.
The feeling in the room, the intense love was overwhelming; in a good way.  But the hardest thing was hearing Grandma talk to him.  Their love....it is unlike anything you have ever seen.  I promise you that.  It absolutely breaks my heart to know their physical love has ceased.  Hearing her talk to him, seeing her caress his face.  Letting him know it's time for him to go.  That she'll be okay.  That she'll never stop loving him.  Or missing him.  I could not hold myself together.  No one could.  I could barely even stand.  I have never felt sadness and pain as deeply as I did when watching her by his bedside.
Grandpa didn't last long.  Not even 5 minutes.  And then he passed.  He passed with his entire family surrounding his bedside, engaged in prayer, laughter, and love.  Just the way he would have wanted it.  There truly is no better way to pass into Heaven than with your family by your side, holding your hand.  I think Grandpa knew his time was here.  I think he held out for this weekend, when he knew everyone would be here.  Even Nick was able to say goodbye that morning before he headed back to Florida (although when he left things were looking up but he still said goodbye.)
We each took a turn walking up to him, kissing him, and saying one last final goodbye.  Then we gathered in a private consult room and cried and cried.  And laughed and laughed.  I've always known this, but on August 18th, it was reinforced more than it ever has been, just how truly amazing my family is.  The bond and closeness we all have to each other as cousins, aunts, uncles, grandkids, etc is unique.  It's rare.  I can honestly say I have not witnessed another family like mine.  I will forever be grateful for my family and how we have helped each other get through this together.

After we were composed, we gathered our things from the waiting room and gathered at my Uncle and Aunt's house.  No one wanted to be "alone".  We all gathered together and started to discuss Grandpa's funeral and wake.  We all just wanted to get it going and over with.  We didn't want to drag out the pain and heartache.  And we know Grandma didn't either.  So we sat around, planning that, and again sharing memories of Grandpa.




This post was incredibly hard for me to write.  It took me a few days.  I don't really know how to end it.  So I'm just going to end it by saying that my Grandpa is honestly the most amazing man I have ever met.  I love him so deeply and miss him more than I could ever express.  I have never felt so empty or lost and I don't know how to go on in life without him.  I'm just trying to take things one day at a time.

Recap: Trip Home to St. Louis

It's really hard for me to write this blog post because I feel guilty focusing on my time at home that was fun.  When I think about my trip home, Grandpa's passing is the first thing that enters my mind.  And it's hard to push that aside and remember all the fun I had while home.

My original intent for going home was not for Grandpa.  I go home every August to get my yearly surgery AND because my Dad would be turning 60!!!!  Grandpa going through chemotherapy treatments was just a perk for me to get to spend that time with him.  I know a lot of people think I was heading home because of Grandpa, but in reality, I had my August trip planned since well before we even knew Grandpa had cancer.

Leah and I headed home to St. Louis, with her dogs in tow, on August 2nd.  Here are some of the significant highlights from my trip home:

Cousins' Night Out:  Backstreet's Back!
On August 3rd, after spending the day at Grandpa and Grandma's house, we headed out for our Cousins' Night Out.  We decided to relive our childhood at the Backstreet Boys concert (Let it be known that we were all obsessed with *NSYNC.  Our loyalty still lies with them but who could pass up a boy band concert to relive the past?!)  We went out to dinner and then headed to the concert.  After the concert, we had a slumber party at my cousin Teeny's condo.  In the morning, we crashed her parents house for my uncle's infamous chocolate chip and M&M pancakes!!!

(we are not duck-facers.  This was done with the intention of mocking that ridiculousness.)

Endoscopy
This was the reason for my visit home and thankfully, all went well.  (I blogged about this while I was home so you can check it out HERE)

Chemo with Grandpa
In 2006, I underwent a very intense cancer treatment regiment.  I first started with radiation, which lasted six weeks and I went every weekday.  Following those six weeks, I had another six weeks to try to gain some weight (radiation knocked me down pretty badly and I was weighing in at just 101 pounds).  I finally began chemotherapy and my regiment was the most intense at the time, with two of the strongest drugs.  I went to chemo Monday through Friday every third week over a 15 week period (five total weeks).  My chemo sessions kept me at the hospital for almost 8 hours each day.  Because chemo was so long and so frequent, my mother could not attend all my treatments with me.  As I'm sure you know all know by now, I have an amazing family.  Aunts, uncles, siblings, friends, cousins, etc took off work and skipped classes to take me to chemo, sit with me, and bring me home.  During this time, I was pretty sick.  I slept the entire day...the ride to the hospital, in the waiting room, during my chemo infusion, the ride home, after I got home, and all night long.  I really was not awake during my chemo weeks.  In addition to this, I got so weak that I was wheelchair bound unless in my own home.  Grandpa, being retired and so awesome, was one of my regulars at chemo.  He sat with me, in those freezing cold rooms, all day long.  So caring and loving.  Always providing a smile and a laugh.  It was very important for me to get to attend at least one chemo treatment with him.  I could never repay him for all the love, support, and laughs he gave me during my cancer journey, but I wanted to do this with him.  I wanted to now be his chemo buddy.  Thankfully for me, one of his chemo treatments fell during my visit home.  This was his second chemo treatment, and it ended up being his last.  I drove Grandpa, Grandma, and Leah to chemo on August 8th.  We sat with Grandpa, having quite a few laughs, and I helped Grandma with feeding tube "lunch".  The next day, I took Grandpa back to get his white blood cell shot.
I am so thankful that I was able to spend this day with him.  Grandpa's love and support during my cancer battle meant the world to me and I'm happy I was able to repay him, even though it was nothing compared to all he's done for me.  I'm happy we were able to fill his days with smiles and laughs during such an awful experience.  I will forever be grateful that I was able to attend a chemo with him, as he did with me.

Sibling Weekend
The weekend of the 9th through the 11th, Leah and I headed to Kansas City (well really Kansas but who wants to admit they went to Kansas??  Not I!).  Randy moved to KC a few months ago for work and Ben just recently moved there after getting a new job.  It's weird to have him living 4 hours from home but I'm happy he's happy and finally back with Randy.  We had a great weekend seeing his new place, hanging out with friends (they started out as his friends but after my many years of living in CoMO, they've turned into my friends as well), and enjoying time with just us siblings.  We talked about our childhood, our concern for Grandpa, Grandma, and our own parents.  We talked about our fears and wishes.  It was a much needed mini-vacay for me and I wish my siblings and I could have this more often.

Of course we went out for some Kansas City BBQ

Ben & Mark found a video game-esque beer so of course they bought it.  And of course Ben drank it out of his Mario Brother's mug.

Ben bought an original Clue game at a swap meet but he'd NEVER played before!!!  Of course we broke it out to play a few games (while also watching the movie "Clue")

Dinner with Friends
I was able to squeeze in some really quick dinners with friends.  I hate that time home is so rushed but I love getting to see my friends.  I consider myself very lucky to have kept in such close contact with so many of them and I feel we're closer than we were when I was living in St. Louis.

Cardinals Game
Nick came in town halfway through my (what should have been) last week in town.  His aunt and uncle invited us to a Cardinals day game and of course we accepted.  We met them at a casino downtown where the guys gambled and Nick's aunt and I chatted.  We attended one freaking awesome game where the Cardinals made a ridiculous come back to beat the Pirates in extra innings.

Fireworks for the WIN!

Afterwards, we happened to walk by Jim Hayes and Rick Horton doing their post-game show.  We took some photos of them doing their broadcast and then Nick's aunt suggested that Nick and I pose with them behind us, at their desk, doing their show.  As she takes the picture, we see her laughing.  Upon getting my phone back, I look at the photo and see this:

They photobombed us!!!  We wanted them just sitting there, doing their broadcast but instead we got this.  Epic!! When I looked up, the two of them were laughing so hard and they asked to see the photo, upon which they laughed even harder.  They are Nick and my favorite sports talk show hosts because they always seem like such goofy guys, always laughing.  And this photo just confirms that!

Dad's 60th
This was one of my main reasons for coming to St. Louis.  Dad turned 60 on the 16th!!!!  My Dad is who I get the "big kid at heart" thing from so for his birthday, he simply wanted to spend the day at the Zoo with his family.  And that's what we did.

We had dinner plans but we got a call that Grandpa was being taken to the emergency room so we all headed there instead.  Sadly, this is where we spent the remainder of Dad's birthday, and Leah's birthday the next day.  Sunday was supposed to be a large birthday party for Dad and Leah, but we decided immediately to cancel that because of things going on with Grandpa.  (Which ended up being a good idea, because Sunday was the day Grandpa passed away.)

My amazing family, together, as we were for three days, in the waiting room.

Unfortunately, the rest of my visit home would be one of tears and heartbreak.  Grandpa never left the hospital.  All 16 of us stayed the next three days at St. Anthony's until Grandpa finally left us to be with Jesus.  His passing was very unexpected.  Many have asked what happened and I do plan to write a blog post about it.  I apologize in advance because it might be all over the place.  Friday afternoon through Sunday all seem to run together but I'll try to remember what I can.