It is father's day today, and my grandfather is still in the bed in the back bedroom. Well, he is here in body, but his mind seems to be slipping farther to the other side. He hardly recognizes anyone. It is like he is looking into the face of a stranger. Except for when my son comes into the room, and then Pop lights up like he did before he got so sick. For that I am glad. Lucien hugged him for almost five minutes tonight, which is a long time for a little man who is only 15 months old. I fear the end is very, very close. I say good bye to my grandfather on a day that honors all fathers. It is fitting he has made it through today. Although, I am not sure what tomorrow will bring.
I wish I had kept my ass home on mother's day when I was so sick. I wasn't getting any help at home with Lucien...even on mothers day when I was throwing up my guts. But, I was selfish, and I couldn't handle it...so I ran home to mama. And with me, I carried a 24 hour virus that every member of my family eventually contracted. My 92 year old grandfather did not recover. I keep thinking that if I had just kept my selfish, sorry ass home that day. If I had just sucked it up...maybe Pop would still be well.
I know it is not my fault. But, I just do not want him to go. He has been a constant in my life since the day I was born. He never judged me. And he always forgave me. He believed in me when no one else did. I am thankful to have spent these last few years with him so close...and with me sober. I just do not want to see him go. What will I do when the constant becomes inconstant?