Late on Friday night, on October 21, my sweet, gentle and wonderful Grandpa Yancey passed away. His passing was so sudden that it has left all of us reeling. Still, more than a week later, my brain wanders in thoughts that take me back to him, to that night, to all those feelings. His death was so different from my grandma's, his wife, and I am having a much harder time with it. It is such a strange thing to have someone alive one day, one hour, and gone the next. I have spent so much time in his house this last week. Seeing his laundry folded in the laundry room, his pill box with Saturday's pills untouched, his shoes sitting by the door. It is a startling reminder that we have no idea what is coming in the next day, hour, or minute and this life is so incredibly temporary.
I have so much I want to write about this, so much I want to write about our life in general over the last four months. Since having Gretchen I have felt such a drive to write, just to get my feelings out, but my time is so limited and my brain is so tired! So here I am, at 11:00 pm on a Saturday night, everyone is sleeping, and I am writing.
On Thursday, October 13, my Grandpa had a heart attack. He was serving at the temple at the time, quickly recognized what was happening, asked for help and was taken by ambulance to Lakeview Hospital. It was determined he would either need a quadruple bypass, or he could have stents placed. On Saturday he was transferred to the U so he could get a second opinion. Late on Sunday night, he made the decision to have stents placed. It was a decision all of his doctors felt good about, and his children also. At the age of 90 he decided he wasn't interested in longevity, but instead, quality of life. A recovery from a quadruple bypass at the age of 90 would be hard and grueling. We all thought that with stents he could have just a few more years, continue living the way he had, and we would all have our wonderful Grandpa Yancey around a while longer.
He had six stents placed in the left side of his heart on Monday afternoon. It was a bit of a difficult procedure, but in the end, all went well, he had a great night and was able to come home on Tuesday, October 18. My mom and my uncle spent a lot of time at home with him for the rest of the week. They had meals with him, ran errands with him, helped with mail and bills, did yard work and went on walks. He was happy, they were happy, and we were all certain he was making an excellent recovery.
On Friday my mom and sister-in-law spent the morning planting daffodil bulbs in his yard while he sat on the front porch. That evening he went to the symphony with his son and daughter-in-law. He had bought this ticket months ago to hear a Rachmaninoff concerto. After all of this though, he asked my aunt and uncle to go with him because he didn't feel comfortable driving alone. They of course agreed and bought two additional tickets. From all accounts, the symphony was beautiful and wonderful and all three of them enjoyed it.
Just as they were pulling off the Centerville exit, my Grandpa told them his heart was hurting. They helped him take a nitroglycerin tablet, called my mom, and asked her to meet them at his house. By the time they got to his house, just five minutes later, he was in so much pain he could not get out of the car. Three nitroglycerin tablets offered him no relief. He and my mom were taken by ambulance back to Lakeview and my dad and aunt and uncle followed.
That night I was at my house, Richard was working, and all my kids were sleeping. At 10:40 pm I got a text from Danny, who lives with him. It said, "If you are awake call me. If I do not answer I will call you back." The second I read that my stomach dropped and I knew something was wrong. I tried calling Danny twice, but he didn't answer. I then got a text from my dad saying that Grandpa was likely having another heart attack, it was bad, and he might go. At that point I lost it and called Stacie. She answered, filled me in, and I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Within 20 minutes Danny was at my house and just minutes later Stacie came. As soon as she walked in my door, Danny and I ran out, in hopes that we could get to the hospital before he passed away. We walked into his room less than five minutes after he passed away.
The first thing I heard when we walked in the room was my mom crying as she was hugging her brother. The first thing I saw was my dad by my Grandpa's bedside; he was crying. Next I looked at my Grandpa. He was pale, sweaty, and had a furrowed brow. I immediately went to his bedside, put one hand on his shoulder, and with my other hand, stroked his soft, white hair. I had planned to visit him that day, but I didn't, and now I couldn't. I was a wreck. I stood there for what seemed like minutes before the doctor came in and officially called his time of death at 11:24 pm.
I don't think we left that hospital room until 1:00 in the morning. My parents and aunt and uncle called family, we cried, we hugged, every once in a while we laughed, and every few minutes I stroked his hair. Looking back, I think I experienced some symptoms of shock from 10:40 on. My legs were shaking, at times uncontrollably. Twice I felt dizzy. Sometimes I felt nauseated. I have never experienced a situation like that. Those moments are permanently etched into me now.
In the days since I have felt all sorts of feelings. Profound sadness that someone who was a part of my life for 33 years is now gone. Gratitude that I am his granddaughter and part of such an exceptional family. Guilt that I did not visit him since the Monday he was in the hospital. Peace that he is with his wife, son, parents, and all of his siblings. I cried every single day for the next seven days. Rachel asks me about ten times a day if I am crying again. Every night I lay on the couch and talk to Richard about death. I'm sure I am exhausting him. I'm exhausting myself!
We had a family viewing on Tuesday afternoon. This is actually the thing that brought me the post peace, calm, and closure during all of this. One very special thing is that during the family viewing, and the viewing just before the funeral, my Grandpa's body was frequently surrounded by his great-grandchildren. I didn't take a picture, but I hope I always remember those sweet children gathered around his casket. I think this speaks volumes about the kind of great-grandfather he was. These kids knew him, loved him, they knew he loved them. They had played games with him, sat on his lap, read books with him, and even though he had passed away, they still felt so comfortable being close to his body.
His funeral was a beautiful tribute to the wonderful life he lived. And it was a wonderful life. He had such a successful professional life in the insurance industry. He had traveled the world and seen so many beautiful things. He had close associations with wonderful people. He had had a remarkable church experience, serving as the first president of the Bountiful Temple and frequently interacting with prophets and apostles. But, what stood out to me most, brought me the most gratitude and peace, is the love he had for his family, from the very beginning of his life until his last day on earth. We were all so important to him, and we knew it. Bishop Davies, of the presiding bishopric, was at his funeral and was the last speaker. He said something that I never want to forget. He told us that Grandpa Yancey would now be our biggest cheerleader in heaven. He prayed for us while he was alive, and he will continue praying for us. That brought me so much comfort, and even made me smile. To think I have one of the best individuals I have ever known, praying for me and cheering me on from heaven, gives me strength to want to be just a bit better each day.
Our kids have been so sweet about all of this. I told Marshall and Bridget together, soon after they woke up on Saturday morning. I was very nervous because Bridget had asked about five times on Friday when we could go visit Grandpa Yancey. They both took the news well though and asked lots of questions. Just a few minutes later Bridget said the prayer for breakfast, and while I cannot remember exactly what she said, I was so touched by her kind and heartfelt words about her great-grandpa. Bridget has drawn multiple pictures of him and for him this last week. She is carrying around the program from his funeral and moves it from room to room with her. Marshall has his program on his headboard. It is interesting to see each of them react in their own way.
One thing that I keep thinking about is the timing of all of this. There were just little miracles in the days leading up to Grandpa Yancey's death. The fact that two of his kids and their spouses were with him when he passed. He spent his evening at the symphony. His last Sunday on earth, even though he was in the hospital, was a great one. My mom, dad, uncle John, and aunt Margaret spent about 13 hours with him in his small hospital room. All of them said it was a great, great day, even though they did a whole lot of waiting. Since his first heart attack, family members had been taking pictures of Grandpa and sending them in group texts with updates on how he was doing. I look back on those pictures so fondly now. In each picture his smile was warm and his eyes twinkled. I am so glad we have those pictures. Also, the night he passed away, Richard was working so I was home alone with the four kids. Gretchen is a little night owl and usually doesn't go to bed until sometime between 11:00 pm and midnight. That night, however, she was conked out by 9:30 and it only took one try getting her to bed. That usually requires two or three tries. I am so glad she was asleep so I could rush up to the hospital with Danny. Those are small, but very notable miracles.
I expect I will grapple with these emotions and thoughts for weeks to come. I did not take my Grandpa Yancey for granted, I simply assumed he would be with us for our entire two years in Utah. But instead, we had just shy of four months with him. I treasured all the time we had with him this year though, and I was very aware they were special moments. When we were visiting Utah in April Grandpa Yancey played baseball with Marshall and I asked Richard to take a video of them; I am so glad we have that. This summer after a Sunday dinner at my parents' house, Bridget brought Grandpa Yancey a "Cinderella" book and asked him to read to her. He did, and I took a picture. He and my Mom came over for lunch one day this summer and we gave him a tour of our house. He asked to borrow a book from my shelf. I found that book in his office last weekend, with his bookmark in it. Life is so uncertain. He came over to visit us on Marshall's birthday when Gretchen was just four days old. I have a picture of him meeting little Gretchen Ruth for the first time and a picture of Marshall curled up next to him on the couch. These moments and memories are priceless; I just wish we had time to make more.
Oh Grandpa Yancey; he was such a blessing to me. He was so kind, so gentle, so cheerful, so compassionate, so generous, so wise. He lived his life in such a true and wonderful way. He raised four exceptional children. He was the quintessential grandfather to twelve. Ten of his twelve grandchildren are married, and he sealed all ten of us. Gretchen Ruth was his 20th and most recent great-grandchild. He loved those kids, and they loved him. Just yesterday, in the early morning hours, his 21st great-grandchild was born, who was given the middle name of Harold. His passing leaves a giant hole in our hearts. May we live up to the legacy he left us.
In the days since I have felt all sorts of feelings. Profound sadness that someone who was a part of my life for 33 years is now gone. Gratitude that I am his granddaughter and part of such an exceptional family. Guilt that I did not visit him since the Monday he was in the hospital. Peace that he is with his wife, son, parents, and all of his siblings. I cried every single day for the next seven days. Rachel asks me about ten times a day if I am crying again. Every night I lay on the couch and talk to Richard about death. I'm sure I am exhausting him. I'm exhausting myself!
We had a family viewing on Tuesday afternoon. This is actually the thing that brought me the post peace, calm, and closure during all of this. One very special thing is that during the family viewing, and the viewing just before the funeral, my Grandpa's body was frequently surrounded by his great-grandchildren. I didn't take a picture, but I hope I always remember those sweet children gathered around his casket. I think this speaks volumes about the kind of great-grandfather he was. These kids knew him, loved him, they knew he loved them. They had played games with him, sat on his lap, read books with him, and even though he had passed away, they still felt so comfortable being close to his body.
His funeral was a beautiful tribute to the wonderful life he lived. And it was a wonderful life. He had such a successful professional life in the insurance industry. He had traveled the world and seen so many beautiful things. He had close associations with wonderful people. He had had a remarkable church experience, serving as the first president of the Bountiful Temple and frequently interacting with prophets and apostles. But, what stood out to me most, brought me the most gratitude and peace, is the love he had for his family, from the very beginning of his life until his last day on earth. We were all so important to him, and we knew it. Bishop Davies, of the presiding bishopric, was at his funeral and was the last speaker. He said something that I never want to forget. He told us that Grandpa Yancey would now be our biggest cheerleader in heaven. He prayed for us while he was alive, and he will continue praying for us. That brought me so much comfort, and even made me smile. To think I have one of the best individuals I have ever known, praying for me and cheering me on from heaven, gives me strength to want to be just a bit better each day.
Our kids have been so sweet about all of this. I told Marshall and Bridget together, soon after they woke up on Saturday morning. I was very nervous because Bridget had asked about five times on Friday when we could go visit Grandpa Yancey. They both took the news well though and asked lots of questions. Just a few minutes later Bridget said the prayer for breakfast, and while I cannot remember exactly what she said, I was so touched by her kind and heartfelt words about her great-grandpa. Bridget has drawn multiple pictures of him and for him this last week. She is carrying around the program from his funeral and moves it from room to room with her. Marshall has his program on his headboard. It is interesting to see each of them react in their own way.
One thing that I keep thinking about is the timing of all of this. There were just little miracles in the days leading up to Grandpa Yancey's death. The fact that two of his kids and their spouses were with him when he passed. He spent his evening at the symphony. His last Sunday on earth, even though he was in the hospital, was a great one. My mom, dad, uncle John, and aunt Margaret spent about 13 hours with him in his small hospital room. All of them said it was a great, great day, even though they did a whole lot of waiting. Since his first heart attack, family members had been taking pictures of Grandpa and sending them in group texts with updates on how he was doing. I look back on those pictures so fondly now. In each picture his smile was warm and his eyes twinkled. I am so glad we have those pictures. Also, the night he passed away, Richard was working so I was home alone with the four kids. Gretchen is a little night owl and usually doesn't go to bed until sometime between 11:00 pm and midnight. That night, however, she was conked out by 9:30 and it only took one try getting her to bed. That usually requires two or three tries. I am so glad she was asleep so I could rush up to the hospital with Danny. Those are small, but very notable miracles.
I expect I will grapple with these emotions and thoughts for weeks to come. I did not take my Grandpa Yancey for granted, I simply assumed he would be with us for our entire two years in Utah. But instead, we had just shy of four months with him. I treasured all the time we had with him this year though, and I was very aware they were special moments. When we were visiting Utah in April Grandpa Yancey played baseball with Marshall and I asked Richard to take a video of them; I am so glad we have that. This summer after a Sunday dinner at my parents' house, Bridget brought Grandpa Yancey a "Cinderella" book and asked him to read to her. He did, and I took a picture. He and my Mom came over for lunch one day this summer and we gave him a tour of our house. He asked to borrow a book from my shelf. I found that book in his office last weekend, with his bookmark in it. Life is so uncertain. He came over to visit us on Marshall's birthday when Gretchen was just four days old. I have a picture of him meeting little Gretchen Ruth for the first time and a picture of Marshall curled up next to him on the couch. These moments and memories are priceless; I just wish we had time to make more.
Oh Grandpa Yancey; he was such a blessing to me. He was so kind, so gentle, so cheerful, so compassionate, so generous, so wise. He lived his life in such a true and wonderful way. He raised four exceptional children. He was the quintessential grandfather to twelve. Ten of his twelve grandchildren are married, and he sealed all ten of us. Gretchen Ruth was his 20th and most recent great-grandchild. He loved those kids, and they loved him. Just yesterday, in the early morning hours, his 21st great-grandchild was born, who was given the middle name of Harold. His passing leaves a giant hole in our hearts. May we live up to the legacy he left us.
1 comment:
Oh Jenny,
I am so far behind on reading. This post is so beautiful. You convey loss and love so well. I am certain that he is praying for you and your family every day!
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