Million Pieces

My heart broke into a million pieces today. My Grandpa Harold is dying. His lungs are shutting down and his heart is giving out. He's been hospitalized for a week. He knows he's dying. Mind wise, he's sharp as a tack. He knows what's happening, he understands--more so than some family members--that he has days left on this earth. Not weeks, not months, but days. He made a decision this morning that I'm sure broke his heart into a billion pieces. I made a decision to honor his request and subsequently my heart shattered as well.

2 years ago my Grandma passed away. She was his everything. He doted on her with everything he had. Losing her was tough on him. He was lost without her. He had nobody to take care of but himself. He's a caretaker by nature and has a heart of gold. Shortly after my Grandma passed away I came across an 8-10 week old kitten. Abandoned, starving and scared. I asked Grandpa Harold if he wanted her, he said no, not right now. Knowing he was lonely and loved cats, a week later I went to a weekend training session and asked him if the kitten could stay with him. I dropped her off on Friday night. The kitten, who was now named Oreo, bolted across the room straight onto his lap. His eyes lit up and he was in love. I left for my training and came to pick up Oreo on Sunday. When I walked in, they were sharing a sandwich, and he told me that since Oreo was so comfortable with him, that she could stay awhile longer. That was 2 years ago, and she had been his companion day in and day out.

She would lay on his lap when he had his 6 daily breathing treatments, she would lick his tears as he mourned for his wife, she slept next to him every night, they shared meals together, watched tv together, she would perch on his shoulder and watch the letters go across the screen when Grandpa Harold would write an e-mail and when he began losing his hair while going through chemo, she curled up around his head at night when his hat would come off.

Knowing that he has been having some health problems, and knowing how much he loved Oreo, I let him know that I was available to care for Oreo if the need should arise. A few times he asked me to come take care of her while he was in and out of the hospital, concerned that she was lonely. I obliged without hesitation.

This morning he called me and asked me to come get her as he was still in the hospital. In talking to him he told me that he wanted me to take Oreo permanently, as he felt he could no longer care for her because he was dying. My heart broke. I know how much Oreo means to him, and for him to give away his only constant companion for the last 2 years was a decision that I know he did not take lightly.

I got the call at 6am and was on the road for the 3.5 hr. drive by 6:30am. I went to see him first, wanting to be sure this was what he wanted. Wanting him to know that, if he changed his mind, I would bring her back, no questions asked. But mostly wanting to quash down the guilt that I had of taking his best friend away from him. He knew this was what he wanted, he knew it was forever, and he made it clear that he had days left to live and he wanted to know that Oreo was safe and taken care of before he passed.

The look on his face was heart wrenching. He looked defeated. Defeated because he couldn't care for his best friend. Wanting the best for her, but knowing he was not the one who could provide it. To say I was honored to be the one chosen to care for his best friend is an understatement. It helped a little bit, but I still felt extremely guilty, sad, anxious, and crushed.

Oreo is currently hiding. She meowed a pitiful meow the entire 3.5 hour drive home. I let her out of her crate once we were safely back to my place and she promptly hid. Hasn't eaten, drank anything, or used the litter box. She's lost. This place is foreign to her. I'm foreign to her. The smells, sounds, sights...all foreign. I imagine it a little like if I were dropped off in a foreign country where nobody understood me, and I didn't understand them.

I pray that Grandpa Harold feels at peace with his decision. Seeing that look of defeat on his face, a look I've NEVER seen on his face before, even when my Grandma passed, was a look I never want to see again. I pray. I don't even have words to pray, I don't know what to say. I have cried more than my fair share of tears today, and I'm certain there will be many more to come. I pray he's at peace. I pray.