Timeless Moments

I stare into his glistening eyes, blue as the morning sky, for the last time. They seem to look into my very being, staring down into the depths of a hurting soul. My heart breaks as his brilliant eyes are closed forever. Here lies a fallen hero, my hero, my grandfather.

I have no regrets. Only hours before I had sat by his bedside, his hand in mine. We were unable to communicate through speech for his illness had put him into a deep slumber; however, I felt him on a more spiritual level. I once found myself in a dream; he and I escaped the sorrow stricken hospice room and wandered a vast meadow of clouds. As we walked we spoke of places far beyond the reaches of this world. It pained me to awaken and see him still trapped in the unyielding confines of his own body. This was the most heartbreaking scene of what had become my reality.

Each day of his final week, my very existence revolved around our moments spent sitting together. I would wake up, shower, then go to the hospice with my book and sit with him until the wee hours of the night. The afternoon of January 10th I was met with the now familiar sight of his sleeping soundly. As I sat beside him and read my book, I felt a presence enter the room. I looked up expecting to meet another’s gaze. Instead I found us alone as before. My grandmother soon joined us, and I relayed the experience to her. As night approached we sat together and discussed the enigma of such a presence. Suddenly an eerie sense of knowing enveloped our minds. We knew a darker night was upon us than that shadowing the twilight sky.

Shortly thereafter, my grandmother left to meet my mother for a quick dinner before returning to the hospice. I chose to remain with my grandfather for I knew he must not be alone tonight. He and I then immersed ourselves in his favorite movie Somewhere in Time. As it played I knew on some level he knew I was there and recognized the movie’s age old tunes.

Watching this movie with him held a more pressing importance in my heart; for years my grandfather had beckoned me to see it with him, but I was always preoccupied. Truthfully, I merely did not want to spend a precious evening watching an old movie. I was selfish and for that I am poignantly sorry, for when I finally saw the film it was the most moving and profound movie I had ever seen graced upon a screen. I was so blessed to have been able appease his wishes while he was still able to be there with me.

Once the movie had ended I returned to my book. Then abruptly I noticed something was horribly wrong. My only source of comfort, the slow but steady rhythm of his breathing had stopped. My own breathing became but a muted whisper. Before I could so much as move, his breathing once again filled the room. Upon my asking one of the nurses, it was described to me as having been an episode of sleep apnea, when breathing ceases for a moment during deep sleep. She then explained that experiencing this was a natural process of the body moving ever closer to its eternal sleep. As the night progressed, these pregnant pauses continued. My grandmother and mother had returned immediately after my notifying them of the change in his breathing patterns. We all sat in awful anticipation of the tragedy unfolding. My grandmother sat holding the hand of her college sweetheart. The love radiating between them knew no bounds; it shined through this, the darkest of nights.

Night persisted on its destined pursuit of the dawn. With collaboration of the nurses, we resolved that he, our dear soldier, would remain in this world for the conclusion of the night. We journeyed home with the heartbreaking desire to stay by his side.

After what felt like seconds asleep, I was awakened by my mother’s desperation. She had just received a call from my grandmother that my grandfather was transitioning into the next life. In an instant my mother and I were on our way. Neither of us could verbalize the enormity of our emotion. When we finally arrived at the hospice, we were greeted by somber faces. I knew it was over before I walked into the room. He was gone.

He was a man who traveled the globe, loyally served his country, and impressed upon his children and grandchildren the importance of noticing all the beauty our world has to offer. Whenever he called me to look at something, I never knew what to expect; it could so easily have been a uniquely colored autumn leaf as it could have been a spectacular hawk on the front lawn. He found beauty and meaning in every moment, every breath. In the end he lay in a hospice bed without even enough strength to open his eyes. Death should not be feared for it is the ultimate mercy on a hurting soul that is trapped in the confines of a dying body. The soul does not whither. The soul does not grow old. The soul does not die. When its human host has expired, it wants beyond all to be released. I will never stop missing my grandfather, but I find solace in knowing that he is now free to soar and transcend all bounds of this world and the next.

-Jennifer