Lessons in passing

Fourteen years ago in July, I lived through one of my hardest days. I sat beside my grandfather and watched as he took his last breath. I witnessed his last minutes Earthside. I had been to funerals before. I understood death. But, I hadn’t lived it. I had never been that close to a person’s last moments. To say that the experience was difficult would be an understatement.

I spent some time, during my grieving, trying to decipher my feelings. And the timing of everything. It was two months before I was set to get married. I was beginning my “new life” and here my grandmother had lost her best friend, her husband. In the midst of my reflecting, something kept coming to the surface; time.

My grandfather, especially by my now skewed standard (I am getting older myself, after all), was rather young when he passed. He was 66. Sixty-six short years on this planet. Most spent working or serving. He was in the Navy as a young man. After getting out of the service, he went to work for a company, one he stayed with until his eventual retirement.

His dream retirement centered around hunting, golfing and time spent in the mountains of West Virginia. That was both of my grandparents’ dream; a cabin in the woods to escape to. The cabin was built but, with it came expenses. And a push to work a few more years. Yep, just a few more years, he’d tell himself. Then, retirement. The dream. Until it wasn’t the dream at all. He had to make sure his retirement funds would be in a place that would allow he, my grandmother and their grown children to live comfortably, IF something happened. Then, retirement. But then, IF happened.

Lung cancer. Asbestos. Sounds like those legal commercials. “If you’ve been exposed, call today”. Except, when it’s been forty something years and you can’t prove much. And now, you’re sick and there are decisions to be made. So, the decision was made, treatments began and unfortunately, fate was sealed.

Nine months from the start of treatments, July of 2006, I sat beside one of the strongest men I ever knew and watched him take that last breath. I watched his frail chest rise and fall, one last time. I saw that flatline, just like in the movies. I lost so much that day. A hero. A link to my past. And someone I had planned to have for so much more of my future.

So, what is the takeaway? I know it must feel like I’m never getting to it. But here it is- you can only prepare for so much in life. Sometimes, that tomorrow never comes. I know the thought of living for the moment or living each day as the last is cliche but at the same time, it’s not. None of us knows. All of our time is precious. Don’t spend it counting. Counting minutes. Counting dollars. Counting things. The only “things” worth counting are memories. And experiences. Time spent with the ones you love, doing what you love. Because, at the end of it all, those are all you take with you. And those are the most precious things we leave behind too. Time.