in passing.

today i read a book to my grandfather.

on this 98 degree massachusetts day, i sat in his room at beaumont nursing home, just me and him; curtains drawn, small fan blowing lazily across us, the only sounds other than my voice were the jimmy dorsey music playing on the radio and the shallow breaths of my dear old Pa.

earlier this morning, as i thought about what to read to him today, i perused my dad's books. i wanted to find something that my Pa would like, but not anything too dense. i'm sure he would have been pleased with a quiet reading of patton's biography but i didn't think i could find a way to do that for a few hours. there were lots of mysteries and stuff, tons of books on nature, but my Pa wasn't that kind of guy, really.

when i saw the 1937 copy of "treasure island" i knew i'd found the perfect book.

so there i was, reading it to him. i sat next to his bed and tried to find a comfy position where i could hold the book and hold his hand at the same time. that didn't work so well, so i settled on being able to just touch his arm, which was baby-soft since my aunt carol had spent all morning rubbing lotion into it.

i told Pa that he had to sit back and listen and not interrupt. i believe that kind of joke is what they would classify as "gallows humor". i started with chapter one and realized very quickly that i would have to do various british accents to fully flesh out the story. i wanted him to be riveted.

i gave it all i had.

we were occasionally interrupted by the kind nurses who were checking his breathing and giving him his meds, but other than that, it was just us. Pa's eyes were closed tightly, shut so defiantly, and his skin was a different color than yesterday. his hands were cold.

i knew, from the hospice paperwork, that these were signs that it was almost time to say goodbye.

i kept reading, stopping for drinks of water and lip balm application. i talked to him every once in a while, telling him that i loved him, and that he was doing a really good job.

when i finished chapter eight, he took a deep deep breath and i waited for the next one to come. twenty seconds later a much shorter breath appeared, followed by another in quick succession. the nurse came in and listened with me.

there were no more breaths. i watched as the pulse in his neck slowed down and stopped. the nurse listened with her stethoscope. she told me he was gone, but i already knew that.

i won't go into the details of what happened afterwards, because that sadness belongs to my mom and my aunt. i can only tell my story here.

all i know is that i felt honored. i was so honored to be there with him, to tell him that he was almost done, that he could go when he wanted to now. as i put my head on his chest and cried a little, i told him how much i loved him and how he was a pain in the ass, but i loved him anyway.

it was our little exchange. tradition. had to be said, even on his deathbed.

i wasn't expecting this, wasn't planning on being the person in the room when he took his last breath. but i feel like i was the luckiest kid alive today. maybe he chose me because he knew i could handle it okay, that i would be strong as i was watching him leave.

it was so beautiful.

now my family begins the process of bereavement, and we call funeral homes and write obituaries and choose clothes and call friends. we pack his clothes and gather photos for the wake. we think about what we will say at the service, who will talk, what stories we can share that don't have too many swear words in them.

in the between time, we swim in my mom's pool and cook dinner and check emails, because that is what you do when you are living. you put your hair up because its so frickin' hot and you hope that your kids go to bed early tonight and you snack on chocolate because if ever you deserved it today would be the day.

this is what i do.

and having spent some time with death today, i am so grateful for this business of being alive.