Two years ago today, we learned just how sick our Dad was. His life was forever changed on Thanksgiving 2015 when we realized he was filled with fluids.
His end-of-life journey (when he let me take him to the hospital) that began on November 30, 2015 lasted another year and a half - in Riverside Hospital and the Newport, relocating him to Brookdale Imperial Plaza (Manor Care), then moving him to the Crossings of Hanover. His passing on May 10, 2017 was bittersweet - but a relief from his body's failures. We laid him to rest in Arlington on October 30, 2017.
Judy and I were officially orphans. We've known we would be, but it became real. Phil and Jeanie would be hosting her mother and stepfather for Thanksgiving; Fred and Nan would be going to Blacksburg to be with their grandchildren. No one in our family invited us to join them so we were going to be alone. I made a reservation at a local restaurant for Thanksgiving.
For the first time in our lives, Judy and I spent our Thanksgiving 2017 without our family.
Fortunately, we have good friends in Diane and John Fairburn who invited us to their home for Thanksgiving dinner with Diane's siblings and John's daughter. It was delicious and most welcoming to be with them to celebrate the day.
And as karma would have it ... today we learned that Phil's mother-in-law (Jeanie's mom) passed away this morning. She had been ill since Wednesday night at their house, fell out of her chair on Thursday (Thanksgiving) at breakfast, left Friday to return to Savannah and lost consciousness in the car en route home. She passed away this morning.
I am so sad for Jeanie and her sister Alice and for Grace's husband, Harold. But I can't help but wonder why this was Grace's fate.
When I look at my parents' journey to the end of their days, I see their conscious decisions and their control over it. I've examined my role in their end of life journey, and I know without a doubt that I did everything I could to ensure their peace of mind.
And I am sad for my brother and his wife - that they didn't recognize what was happening before their eyes.
RIP, Grace.
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