My grandpa is dying. He has been sick for a long while now but, at this moment, he is slowly dying.
A few weeks ago, after I had already left for the race, my grandpa was admitted into a hospital because he had gang green in a couple of his toes. So, he had to get them amputated. I thought this would be the extent of things but of course, it wasn’t. He lost feeling in his leg, so the doctors would have had to amputate that too. His heart was also failing. His heart was weak to begin with but now, it is only getting worse and worse. Fluid is leaking into his lungs and his heart can’t handle any more surgeries. So, it looks like I will not be able to say goodbye to my Pop-Pop.
It sucks. It completely sucks.
So many emotions keep filling up my mind. Once minute, I’ll be happy that my last memory of him was at a family picnic hugging me goodbye and telling me to be safe. I’m glad the last words we said to each other were I love you and take care of yourself. Obviously, he did not listen to me on that one. Then, I get emotions of greed and abandonment. Why am I on this race while the rest of my family is sticking by my grandpa, physically caring for him in his dying days in the hospital? I clearly could be there if I absolutely wanted to. I could tell the leaders on the race that I felt it was necessary to go home. But, that wouldn’t help anything. It wouldn’t make my Pop-pop feel any better. It wouldn’t make my family feel any better.
I am so thankful for my team at a time like this though. Even though they don’t say much, because they don’t have to, they say things that make me feel better and that I belong right here, in Trujillo, Peru helping people out on a daily basis. They remind me that what I am doing is not selfish. In fact, it’s the opposite. (I understand that, but it is still hard to not be at home with the rest of my family)
Finally, the last emotion I get, probably the most often, is peace. My grandpa does not want to live in this world anymore. I’m sure of it. He’s in pain…he has been for years. He’s suffering. He doesn’t want any of that anymore. I don’t want him to go through any of that anymore. I want him to be in a better place and be happy and be able to walk around, everything he can’t do now. Even though it breaks my heart that I am not there to say goodbye, I would not want him sitting in a hospital bed, sick and dying, waiting for me to come home. It’s better that he is happy, whatever that looks like.
