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Guy
OK, well, that was a phone call I didn't want, but I've been expecting it for a while now.
Guy is dying. He was diagnosed with cancer a long time ago, got treatment, seemed to be doing well. We visited him every so often and he mentioned a bit of digestive problems, but nothing too horrible. Then he mentioned things weren't going so well, but he's an elderly Franco-Ontarian who worked his entire life in a pulp mill, so "stiff upper lip" kind of takes on a whole new meaning with him. So I worried, and tried to ask discreetly how he was doing, and tried to offer help if he needed it, and got a pat on the head and a smile.
A few weeks ago, I was going to drop by with the kids, gave him a call to ask if that was OK, and he told me he didn't think it would be a good idea. Feeling too tired and too sick. Which, knowing Guy, was pretty much as clear an indication as he could possibly give, that he was going downhill. His daughter Guylaine had moved in with him, too, which, again...
Anyway, so I called him a few times, told him to give me a call if he needed anything, and then tried not to bug him. He'd mentioned that there were home care people in and out all the time, and that was kind of wearing him out, and he said he knew he could count on us if he needed us and would let us know when would be a good time to stop by.
Well, tonight I got a call from Shirley, one of my mom's closest friends (and the person who got Guy and my mom together in the first place). Said he'd given her a couple of packages for the kids, for their birthdays, and he wanted her to bring them by. And he'd also told her that he wanted me to stop by, because there were some things he needed to let me know, and he wanted me and Guylaine to sort some stuff out. Figure out which things were my mother's, that kind of thing. She said he's pretty much the same as my mom was near the end; not walking any more, lost a lot of weight, very weak.
So. I think I'll leave it at that. There were some other things I wanted to write, but it's getting a little tough to do that right now. This isn't like when I lost my mother - Guy's not my parent, not even my step-parent - but he's a wonderful man who gave my mother the best years of her life, and he's been everything a grandfather should be to my kids, who aren't even related to him. And I don't know how the hell I'm going to explain this to them, or how I'm going to deal with seeing him suffering when I go see him. He's just... he's such a strong person. I hate to think of him deteriorating the way my mom did.
Right. I think I'll go read some very fluffy fic or something.
Guy is dying. He was diagnosed with cancer a long time ago, got treatment, seemed to be doing well. We visited him every so often and he mentioned a bit of digestive problems, but nothing too horrible. Then he mentioned things weren't going so well, but he's an elderly Franco-Ontarian who worked his entire life in a pulp mill, so "stiff upper lip" kind of takes on a whole new meaning with him. So I worried, and tried to ask discreetly how he was doing, and tried to offer help if he needed it, and got a pat on the head and a smile.
A few weeks ago, I was going to drop by with the kids, gave him a call to ask if that was OK, and he told me he didn't think it would be a good idea. Feeling too tired and too sick. Which, knowing Guy, was pretty much as clear an indication as he could possibly give, that he was going downhill. His daughter Guylaine had moved in with him, too, which, again...
Anyway, so I called him a few times, told him to give me a call if he needed anything, and then tried not to bug him. He'd mentioned that there were home care people in and out all the time, and that was kind of wearing him out, and he said he knew he could count on us if he needed us and would let us know when would be a good time to stop by.
Well, tonight I got a call from Shirley, one of my mom's closest friends (and the person who got Guy and my mom together in the first place). Said he'd given her a couple of packages for the kids, for their birthdays, and he wanted her to bring them by. And he'd also told her that he wanted me to stop by, because there were some things he needed to let me know, and he wanted me and Guylaine to sort some stuff out. Figure out which things were my mother's, that kind of thing. She said he's pretty much the same as my mom was near the end; not walking any more, lost a lot of weight, very weak.
So. I think I'll leave it at that. There were some other things I wanted to write, but it's getting a little tough to do that right now. This isn't like when I lost my mother - Guy's not my parent, not even my step-parent - but he's a wonderful man who gave my mother the best years of her life, and he's been everything a grandfather should be to my kids, who aren't even related to him. And I don't know how the hell I'm going to explain this to them, or how I'm going to deal with seeing him suffering when I go see him. He's just... he's such a strong person. I hate to think of him deteriorating the way my mom did.
Right. I think I'll go read some very fluffy fic or something.
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Thanks. And no, it doesn't seem inadequate; there's just not much more to say.
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I wish I knew what to say.
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Yeah, well, there's not much to say. It's still nice to know people care.
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I'll be sending lots of thoughts and prayers your way.
::hugs::
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Thanks. I appreciate it :)
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::hugs:: I'm thinking of you all.
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Yeah, for me it's not that bad - but I can't believe my kids are losing both grandparents so young. When I married Chris, all four of his grandparents were still alive. Somehow I didn't expect to have to see my kids through grieving twice before they were ten years old. And it's the grandparents who live in the same city as them, too. Not that it would be just peachy if their Calgary grandparents died, because they know them and love them and occasionally see them on holidays, but my mom and Guy lived five minutes away. We drive past their house every other day. They saw them at least two or three times a month. And now that's over.
::hugs:: I'm thinking of you all.
Thanks :)
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xoxo
M
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Yeah, and I read somewhere that an astonishingly high proportion of men die within 6 months of being widowed. And this was Guy's second time around; his first wife, Marie, to whom he was married for about 40 years, died three years before he met my mom. I think she also had cancer.
And he's 74, and he smoked for many years, and he worked in a pulp factory his entire life, and and and. There's many reasons why this wasn't a surprise. But it still sucks.
This sounds empty, but try to keep your chin up - and we're here.
Doesn's sound empty to me. I appreciate it :)