Grampy's Swan Song

The Firemen and EMT men bundled Grampy onto the stretcher and loaded him into the back of the ambulance. He had been so weak the last two days and had passed out in the bathroom in Mike's arms. We'd called 911. "Where do you want us to take him m'am?" They asked me. "Back to 1950, please" I thought with sadness. Eventually we got him settled in the ICU at San Joaquin Hospital. After tests were done we were told his kidneys weren't functioning correctly and they started an IV drip with various and sundry meds to hopefully fix it. After a few hours Mike and I went home to sleep, guiltily feeling relief that someone else was seeing to Grampy's care. 

It was 11:00 pm that night when the ICU nurse called to say Grampy's blood pressure was dropping rapidly and we'd better get to the hospital right away if we wanted to say goodbye. He had 2 hours tops she guessed. When we got there he was surprisingly awake and lucid. We stood on either side of his bed and bent down to kiss his forehead. He smiled and grabbed both our hands in his gnarled, old ones and told us he loved us. He wondered one more time where mama was then told Mike that he was a good son, he told us he was going to kick the bucket (his exact words) and that we should just take care of each other now. It was very precious and I'll never forget it. It was our Hallmark movie, bedside dying moment with our dad. Bittersweet and perfect. At that point a nurse walked into the room to adjust his IV. He proudly held up our still-clutched hands; Mike's in his left, mine in his right and called her over  "Nurse, nurse come here and meet my dad and my stepmom!" 

Me and Grampy 2014

Needless to say Grampy did not pass into the great beyond in two hours tops. But we never imagined he would go gently into that good night. He had tenaciously, stubbornly lived out his life punctuated by a series of exclamation points so why should his passing be with any less of an impact? The doctor must have thought he was hanging on too long because, around 3 am she came in and announced that she was moving him out of ICU and into a private room. She was professional, young and cute -- Grampy's favorite kind of doctor. With the hint of a mischievous glint in his fading eyes and in almost a whisper he began singing to her "If you knew Susie like I know Susie" and just as I usually did, and for the last time I ever would, I chimed in and finished the song with him "Oh, oh, oh what a gal". 

Grampy and Susie 2012

The next morning around 11 am Grampy breathed his last. His passing was painless and peaceful - the best any of us could hope for. He had finished his 90 years journey on this planet, dotted his "I"s, crossed his "t"s and placed the last exclamation point at the end of his story.  I could somehow sense mama standing in the wings of heaven, urging him on. "Come on Tex, I'm right here. I've kept your coffee warm for you, Gunsmoke is on and we have a lot of catching up to do!"

Arthur Victor Berthiaume

April 2, 1925 - Nov 2, 2015