I am so blessed by the support I have from my friends.

Yesterday was both very hard and very beautiful.

I am recounting this here mostly so that I will remember. I am functioning on little sleep. Details are already fuzzy. And I type faster than I write. Feel free to stop here. This is for me.

We were at the hospice center all day. Papaw has been pretty unresponsive for the past several days. Throughout the day, my husband played his mandolin, my brother played his guitar, and we all sang the hymns that Papaw taught us. We had a few indications that maybe he heard us. He was raising his hand ever so slightly occasionally. Sometimes his mumbling resembled the words or the tune. He was moving his fingers when Nathan was playing mandolin. Around dinner time, he opened his eyes – wide – for about 30 seconds. Those of us in the room were so thrilled to get what we thought was one last glimpse of him.

And then about midnight, he blew us away. The nurses had called us back. He breathing was very shallow. So we say our goodbyes and then the nurse comes in to tell us that he isn’t looking as bad anymore. And I’m not exactly sure what started the chain of events – or even how they occurred choronologically – but he became conscious. Of course, there was lots of weeping. And he looked at my grandmother and said, “What’s the matter?” It was then that I knew that he was not in any pain. He was asking us what was wrong. He was okay. He told us that and then Mamaw told us of their nightly ritual of the last few years, ending in, “I’m okay. Are you okay?” He gave hugs – strong hugs – to all his kids with pats on the back. Somehow we started singing, Nick got his guitar and we sung again for a long time. Papaw was awake. He understood. He clapped after each song. The guitar got passed around to the other grandkids that can play. I held his hand. He looked at me. I told him I love him. He clapped. He raised his weak hands. He praised his Jesus. Then he wanted to play. We padded him with pillows and handed him my guitar that my brother had been playing. He wasn’t really able to strum, but his fingers were playing cords. He wasn’t really able to sing, but there were a joyful noises coming from his body. It was tragic and beautiful all at the same time. Then he dedided he wanted to stand up. So the guys got together and supported him. He asked Mamaw to scratch his back. And then gave her specific directions on where to scratch. They stood together and had their moment. Papaw said how much he had missed going to church, that his God is Good, that he is okay.

And then he wanted back in bed. With what seemed like everyone’s help, he got back in bed and went back to sleep. We turned the lights off and most of us were quietly ushered out of the room.

We hung out in the great room for a while – a dozen or so grandkids and several significant others – until my sister-in-law, Nathan, and myself decided to take the drive home around 5am. We slept for several hours, got cleaned up, and are headed back up there.

I don’t know how I am. But if he is ready, who am I to argue?

He’s okay. I’m okay.