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For most of the past month my mother's been up in Massachusetts to see my grandfather. Shortly after Christmas he fell ill and ended up in the hospital. It was a rough month for him, surgeries, infections, but last weekend things were looking good. He was moved from the hospital to a rehabilitation facility where he'd take part in physical therapy. Wednesday was the last day my mom saw him before she left to come home. He was doing great...the Grandpa he's always been, the one I know and love.

Today I called my mom just to chat, and she was pretty short with me. I knew the house was kind of a wreck, so I had assumed she was just mad at my dad making her come home to a mess. Then, during a quiet moment in conversation she blurted out she was going back in the near future. Turns out Grandpa has congestive heart failure. His lungs have been filling up with fluid. He's been on dialysis for the last few years, but he's decided to refuse further treatment. He says he's tired and in pain, and doesn't want to deal with it any more. He told my aunt this, and she asked him if he knew what would happen, and he said he understood. He doesn't want anyone to be mad at him for his decision, but it's what he wants.

I can't say I'd want anything different if I were in his shoes. Is it wrong of me to say I hope the end comes quickly? I can't stand the thought of him having to suffer more. He doesn't deserve that. For as much as it pains me to think of us without him, I can't bear the thought of him miserable and hurting in some hospital bed.

Grandpa, I love you, and I'll certainly miss you. No one could ever be mad at you for your decision. Don't worry about Grandma, she'll be taken care of. Do what's best for you.