My grandfather has lay in an ICU bed for the last three weeks, suffering from a severe pneumonia, breathing with the help of a ventilator. He has been in a drug induced coma the entire time. He is 81 years old. The doctors have tried to care for him, but his condition has not improved.
Tomorrow, the ventilator will be turned off.
He was an athletic young man running track and playing football. He did not attend college, but was drafted into the army. He served his country in World War II and never once complained. His discharge papers say he served for 4 years 9 months and 2 days. He received an honorable discharge with the rank of Master Sargent. With the 2nd Armored Division he drove a tank through Germany, North Africa, France, and Sicily. He loved his country.
After the war he came home, married and raised two children. He continued to work manual labor jobs, trying to make ends meet, while his body progressively failed around him. His god damned broken body failed him, but his mind remained sharp as a razor. His physical situation frustrated him, crippled him, and made him into a hard son of a bitch. But he never complained.
When given the opportunity, he would straighten you out. Tell you how you should be doing things and why you were on the wrong track. All the while he puffed away on cheap cigarettes. While they probably caused his death, they were his only vice. How do you deny something as simple as a smoke, when he has been denied so much else?
Tomorrow the ventilator will be turned off, but the world will continue to turn. People will go to work. The will laugh, fight, train. They will do everything they always do, content that tomorrow will come and they will have another go. Oblivious to the fact that there are no guarantees, no round trip tickets, and no refunds.
My grandfather knew the score more acutely than most. He seen life vanish in an instant in battle, only to watch his live slip through his fingers for the next 60 years like so much sand. But he never once complained.
He will be sorely missed.
Tomorrow, the ventilator will be turned off.
He was an athletic young man running track and playing football. He did not attend college, but was drafted into the army. He served his country in World War II and never once complained. His discharge papers say he served for 4 years 9 months and 2 days. He received an honorable discharge with the rank of Master Sargent. With the 2nd Armored Division he drove a tank through Germany, North Africa, France, and Sicily. He loved his country.
After the war he came home, married and raised two children. He continued to work manual labor jobs, trying to make ends meet, while his body progressively failed around him. His god damned broken body failed him, but his mind remained sharp as a razor. His physical situation frustrated him, crippled him, and made him into a hard son of a bitch. But he never complained.
When given the opportunity, he would straighten you out. Tell you how you should be doing things and why you were on the wrong track. All the while he puffed away on cheap cigarettes. While they probably caused his death, they were his only vice. How do you deny something as simple as a smoke, when he has been denied so much else?
Tomorrow the ventilator will be turned off, but the world will continue to turn. People will go to work. The will laugh, fight, train. They will do everything they always do, content that tomorrow will come and they will have another go. Oblivious to the fact that there are no guarantees, no round trip tickets, and no refunds.
My grandfather knew the score more acutely than most. He seen life vanish in an instant in battle, only to watch his live slip through his fingers for the next 60 years like so much sand. But he never once complained.
He will be sorely missed.