Walking Grandpa Home

“I remember when we were rousted out of bed at 2:00 a.m. for an emergency briefing,” my Grandpa had told me last Thanksgiving. “We knew immediately it was a serious mission because the night before General Eisenhower had made a personal visit to our base and took the time to shake each of our hands and thank us for our service.”

“We put more than three hundred C-47’s into the air that night loaded with paratroopers who were packed down with loads of supplies…each man weighing almost twice his body weight,” Grandpa had recalled. “Our mission exceeded six hours of night and day flying in very bad weather. It was a long and tense day.”

Grandpa was referring to June 6, 1944. And as I now held the soft, silky hand of this decorated United States Air Force Colonel who lay comatose in a hospital bed only eight months after our last visit, I marveled at the fact that he had flown C-47’s dropping paratroopers and supplies over the beaches of Normandy on that infamous day over sixty-four years ago.

I looked at my Grandpa’s tan complexion boasting barely a wrinkle and stylish black hair with only a hint of grey and I was in awe that this man of ninety years still looked so amazing. When he had shared the story about D-Day with me during that November visit I was so grateful my husband and three children were in the room. We had no idea back then that God would be calling him home so soon after. My kids loved their great-grandfather and this glimpse into history had been a priceless experience for all of us and a fitting gift to celebrate on Thanksgiving.

Gazing upon his lifeless figure, I was overcome by the dignity Grandpa still emanated. My Grandpa was so brave. He loved to fly and had mastered enormous aircraft during his thirty-year tenure in the USAF. He also married, raised a family and lived around the world in many different cultures. Now as I caressed his forehead, this hero of mine seemed more courageous than ever as he prepared for his final mission. This time Grandpa was up against an enemy that could not be conquered. A stroke and massive brain hemorrhage was slowly taking over the vitality of this WWII veteran, beloved husband of sixty-three years, adoring father of three, dear grandfather of six and revered great-grandfather of seven.

“Grandpa, thank you for all you’ve done for me in my life,” I gently whispered. “Thank you for serving our country so well.”

I looked up at the machine next to his bed--heart rate ninety-two, blood pressure 160/60, Oxygen level ninety-one, and respiratory rate twenty-one. These were such solid vitals. My Grandpa was as healthy as an ox—except for the bleeding. It was too much. On July 16, 2008 Grandpa was taking his last flight, but this time God was at the controls. Despite my grief and sadness, I was overcome with gratitude for the opportunity to be at his bedside saying goodbye.

My mom had received the call about 6:30 p.m. the night before saying that Grandpa had been rushed to the hospital. My Grandparents live in Sterling, Virginia – six and a half hours away. We didn’t hear from the doctor until 9:30 p.m. The news was grave. Grandpa had suffered a massive bleed and was in a coma and on a ventilator. He could arrest at any time. At this point it was a race against the clock for us to get to him in time at the hospital and pick up my Grandma who was alone and frightened in her assisted living facility so she would have the opportunity to say goodbye.

I called my grandma on the way over to my mom’s house. She sounded strong.

“Grandpa’s in good hands Shel. Everything will be fine,” she said confidently.

“We had a really good day together,” she continued. “Grandpa woke up and said, ‘Jan, we are going to wash clothes today.’ So that is what we did. We did all the laundry; we laughed and talked all day. It was a really good day. Before you know it, Grandpa will be home.”

I bit by tongue to keep from crying. I knew inside my heart that Grandpa wouldn’t be back.

“Well Grandma, we are all praying for both you and Grandpa. We love you very much. Try and get some sleep,” I mustered as reassuringly as I could.

It was 11:00 p.m. when I got in the car with my mom and step-father, Frank. I took a deep breath and prayed diligently in my heart. “Lord, please give my Mother strength as she faces this reality with her Dad. Please allow Grandma to rest tonight and please keep us safe on the roads as we drive through the night to see Grandpa. And Grandpa, if you can hold on—we are coming…”

My Mom called the hospital a few times during the drive. Grandpa remained stable. At 5:30 a.m. we pulled into the parking garage of Fairfax Hospital in Virginia and I silently thanked God for getting us there safely. After looking at the signs, we realized we were lost and unsure of where to go. My Mom rolled down the window and beckoned a nurse who was out walking.

“Excuse me miss. We are from out of town. I need to find my Dad in the Neuro ICU department.”

“Okay. You are in the wrong garage,” she responded. “Go ahead and pull back out to the light, take a right and then another right into the grey parking garage. I will meet you there and escort you to your Dad. This is a huge hospital and it will be much easier if I help you find your way.”

An angel sent to guide us…

“Thank you so much,” my mom gratefully replied. “And what is your name?”

“Cherry. Like the fruit. I’ll see you over there.”

So Cherry met us at the gray garage as promised. It seemed like an eternity walking the walls of this monstrosity of a hospital. I kept glancing at my Mom. The thought of watching her walk into that ICU room and see her Dad like that was suffocating me. But, I knew God was all around us and that gave me tremendous peace at the same time.

“Neuroscience Intensive Care Unit” read the sign. We were there.

“Can you tell us what room Lester Bergum is in please?” Cherry asked for us.

Room seven was only a few steps away. I don’t know who I looked at first, Grandpa or my Mom when we walked into the room. It was overwhelming to see this man of such courage and strength laying there with a machine breathing for him.

“Thank you, Lord, for keeping Grandpa alive for us,” I prayed.

“He’s had a massive bleed,” said the nurse. “There are no reflexes, his pupils are not responding and the damage done is irreparable.”

I wanted to wake up from a dream, but it was reality in front of me. Grandpa could not rebound from this—and now it was only a matter of getting Grandma to the hospital quickly to see him before the ventilator would have to be removed. No heroics were Grandpa’s wishes in his living will—and his wishes would be honored.

I offered to pick up Grandma so my Mom could stay with her Dad.

“Mom, spend this time with him. We drove all this way so you could see him. Frank and I can handle breaking the news to Grandma and we will get her over here as fast as we can.”

“Lord, please keep us safe again. We are so tired—but we need to get Grandma here to say goodbye,” I frantically prayed inside. Grandma was a half hour away and Washington D. C. rush hour was in full force now at 6:30 a.m.

Once again, God delivered. Frank and I made it to Grandma’s place in just over thirty minutes. My stomach was in knots and my hands were trembling as I got out of the car. How on earth would I be able to tell this beautiful bride of sixty three years that her soul-mate was leaving?

“Lord, please give us the strength…”

Frank had called ahead and asked the staff at West Falls to have Grandma dressed, fed and ready to go to the hospital. When we walked in we let a few of the staff know we were going to have to break some very bad news and asked that they be on the alert. Grandma has epilepsy and had already had a seizure the night before from the stress of Grandpa being taken away in the ambulance.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the immediate breakdown of the staff members. The look of shock and dismay that my Grandpa, Mr. Bergum, was dying left them all sobbing instantly. How will they be able to help us with Grandma if they couldn’t keep it together?

I took another deep breath. Frank and I got in the elevator on our ascent to the second floor apartment where Grandma was waiting. I was trembling all over.

“Holy Spirit, please speak for us…”

We knocked on the door and were immediately greeted with a warm, infectious smile of Rosie, a nurse who had gotten Grandma all dressed and ready.

“She’s waiting for you in the other room,” Rosie said kindly.

I turned the corner and Grandma was standing with her back to me holding on to her walker. I approached gently from behind and kissed her on the cheek.

“Who’s that? Oh, Shel…what are you doing here?’ she questioned. I immediately began to cry. I couldn’t stop the tears so I backed away allowing Frank to greet her.

“Hi, Jan,” he said warmly.

“Oh Frank, dear. Hello.”

I looked over at Rosie and whispered. “Grandpa’s not going to make it.”

A look of horror came across her face and she quickly glanced at my Grandma. “How’s Grandpa?” Grandma managed to ask Frank and me in a trembling voice.

“Frank put his arm around her gently and said, “He’s not good.”

Grandma looked over at me. I shook my head, tried so hard not to cry and just embraced her saying, “I’m so sorry Grandma. He’s not going to make it. I’m so sorry.”

As I held this frail body in my arms that was shaking uncontrollably and crying so hard I could do nothing but pray.

“Oh, Lord, why does she have to suffer this loss?”

“Why did it have to happen so fast?” Grandma barely managed to speak. “What am I going to do now? How can I live without him?”

These words were devastating to hear. A sixty-three year friendship was coming to an end. It was heartbreaking.

We had to sit Grandma down. She had to eat and get her medicine so we could get back to the hospital. I knelt in front of her.

“Grandma, we need to get some food into you so you can take your medicine. Grandpa is waiting for you at the hospital.

“When did he pass?” she whispered.

“Grandma, he is still alive.”

“A machine is helping him breath,” Frank said. “But he can’t breathe without it.”

“Well, that is almost worse than being dead isn’t it?’ Grandma said with more strength than before.

I put some cheerios in a bowl for her to eat and the one of the staff girls put her medicine in some applesauce. Between the two of us we tried to help her eat.

“Lord, this is too much,” I pleaded silently. “Help her to be able to eat so we can get her to Grandpa.”

Suddenly, this military wife showed tremendous poise under pressure and demonstrated as much courage as her honored Veteran husband. She stopped her tears, ate the cheerios and applesauce and took all of her medicine. She was determined to get to her husband.

We packed up some water, snacks, Kleenex and medicine for later and hurried Grandma down to the car. The drive back to the hospital was really a blur. It took forty-five minutes and seemed like eternity. But Grandma was strong the whole way…she was amazing.

Frank got her in a wheel chair and we made our way up to ICU. When we got off the elevator, my Mom was right there.

“Oh, Karen,” Grandma immediately cried out.

In silence we pushed Grandma into room seven. Words cannot describe that moment of watching my fragile, yet beautiful Grandmother come upon her loving spouse who lay helpless in the hospital bed. It was the ending of a beloved love story no one wanted to ever come to a close. I tried to imagine what was going through my dear Grandma’s mind, but I could only guess. I am lucky to have a loving husband of fifteen years and the thought of losing him is devastating to me. For Grandma this was an enormous pain.

As my Mom embraced her mother, Frank suddenly found himself in a room with three generations of women agonizing over the finality of what was before them. He wrapped his arms around me first and absorbed every sob with such gentleness and love. At that very moment I thanked God for bringing Frank into my Mom’s life—and for the role he played in mine. I watched as Frank then moved over to my Mom and consoled her…then to Grandma. God was so good having allowed Frank in our lives.

A new nurse was on assignment now. Her name was Kimberly. She was about my age, almost forty, and had a very peaceful presence. She explained to my Grandma the severity of Grandpa’s hemorrhage. She gently told her that the damage from the bleeding was irreversible and that his living will had requested a “do not resuscitate” clause. Grandma understood what had to be done. She looked at my mom with incredible resolve and said, “Okay then, let’s do it. I’m ready.” Grandma had given the final okay to remove the ventilator. The assumption then was that once removed, Grandpa would pass rather quickly as he was unable to breathe on his own. We all were asked to leave the room briefly while the procedure was performed. It was 9:15 a.m.

“Lord, please give Grandma strength as she says goodbye.”

I was fully prepared to go back into room seven and say a quick goodbye to Grandpa. When we returned he now lay without the ventilator and took deep, snoring breaths on his own. I prayed several Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s in my heart. I asked God to welcome Grandpa with open arms as he entered His Kingdom. Grandma sat in her wheelchair right at her groom’s side—only able to touch his hand. I told Frank I wished they could lower the bed so Grandma could just crawl in next to him. Frank left the room to find Kimberly. The bed was lowered. Although impossible for Grandma to really get in the bed, now Grandpa was closer to her level where she could see his face better and caress his arm and hand.

Five minutes, ten minutes, an hour, two hours…Grandpa was still breathing with vitals as strong as ever. Kimberly said sometimes that happens. Grandpa could live for hours longer maybe. This was taking a toll on Grandma. She had gotten no sleep the night before and sitting in the hospital at his bedside was so emotionally draining. After taking her down to the cafeteria for lunch, it was decided that after five hours at the hospital, she needed to get home to rest.

Everyone was exhausted. I offered to stay with Grandpa so my Mom could be with Grandma and they all could get some sleep. Frank drove them all home and I settled in for a long afternoon—just me and Grandpa.

The first hour of our time together I sat at his side journaling about the experience. I wanted to capture every moment of his final time on earth in vivid detail. Before long I gave into the exhaustion I was feeling and dozed off at his side lulled to sleep by his rhythmic snoring. Around 2:00 p.m. I called for Kimberly. I asked her if we could moisten his mouth and lips—they were so cracked and dry from breathing with is mouth open. I watched as she gently took a sponge swab with moisturizer and caressed his tongue and lips. I immediately thought of the beautiful sounds that used to gently flow from this lovely tenor as he sang church hymns with such grace and purity. Grandpa bit down on the sponge. I was startled.

“Why did he do that?” I asked Kimberly.

“It is an involuntary reflex,” she explained. “The sucking reflex we are all born with as babies.”

I sighed in disappointment. For a brief moment, I thought maybe a miracle recovery was going to take place. Kimberly obviously sensed my disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I know it is hard,” she tried to console.

We then shared experiences of being with loved ones at their bedside when they die. I told her I was blessed to be in the room when my husband’s Grandma of ninety years passed away.

“It was such a beautiful experience,” I said. “It was such a gift to be there for the full circle of life.”

Kimberly agreed and shared how she had been blessed with being at her father’s bedside when he died at the young age of fifty-five. I thanked God for sending yet another angel in Kimberly to guide us through this journey...

I sat back down with Grandpa and just rested by his side. His head was so warm because of a neuro-fever he had developed from the bleeding in his brain. I dabbed the sweat gently from his brow and cheeks. His vitals were still strong. It was 3:19 p.m.—six hours after the ventilator had been removed. Grandpa was still holding on.

“Grandpa, maybe you are waiting for Uncle Les and Aunt Candy. Uncle Les is trying hard to get here by six and Aunt Candy will be here tomorrow afternoon. They are doing everything they can to be here and they love you so very much.”

I decided to leave the room so I could call my husband, John. We spent about twenty minutes on the phone before I headed down to the gift shop in search of a snack. My Mom had asked before she took Grandma home if I wanted a book to read. I had declined, but thought now I would look for one. I could read out loud to Grandpa for awhile.

I found some candy and then scanned the book selections. 90 Minutes in Heaven, by Don Piper quickly caught my eye. That seems appropriate I thought. I picked it up and read the back cover.

“Offers comfort and hope for those facing loss or uncertainty.”

That was all I needed to read. This was the book God wanted me to buy.

I checked out in the gift shop and made my way back upstairs to Grandpa. It was about 3:50 p.m. My Mom called at 3:54 p.m.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Well, he has a fever and his blood pressure is a little higher than before. But all his other vitals are still strong.”

“Okay. Grandma is still sleeping. I don’t think she has the strength to make it back to the hospital. I am going to take a quick shower and then Frank and I will head over to the hospital.” After hanging up with my Mom I made note of Grandpa’s vitals again. They were still strong. He was pretty warm and was snoring rather loud, but other than that was the same. I sat down and began to read the book to him. Some parts I read in silence and periodically I would put the book down and just talk to Grandpa. I let him know that my Mom was coming back soon and that my uncle and aunt were thinking of him.

It was just after 4:00 p.m. when the monitor next to his bed began beeping. I looked up. His heart rate was fluctuating between one hundred twenty-five and one hundred thirty-five, which was higher than normal and thus set off an alarm. His blood pressure was elevated quite a bit and his oxygen level was now seventy-six…down from eighty-six in a short time period. I felt Grandpa’s head. He was really warm. I nervously pushed the nurse call button. It was 4:10 p.m. when Kimberly came in the room.

“His levels are changing drastically,” I said. “Should I call my mom to come back right away? They are at least thirty minutes away.”

“You know, it is so hard to tell. Yes, his vitals are definitely changing,” Kimberly said. “But he could also maintain for hours at an oxygen level as low as fifty. I wish I could say for sure, but maybe call her and let her know to think about making her way over.”

I left the room to call my Mom. It was 4:16 p.m.—exactly seven hours since the ventilator had been removed.

“Mom, I think you need to come right away. His oxygen levels have dropped ten points in five minutes and his heart rate is really high. Kimberly is not certain what will happen, but he is changing.”

“Okay, we are on our way,” she said.

I made my way back to Grandpa and sat down next to the bed. I held his left hand that lay at his side. I thought of all the wonderful songs he used to play with his nimble fingers on the fiddle my Mom and her brother and sister had given him for his retirement gift. The pulse-ox clip was wrapped around his ring finger. I looked at the gold band and prayed that Grandma would be okay without him. I then began reading the book again to him.

“Grandpa, listen to this part,” I said and began reading from Chapter three entitled, “Heavenly Music” as the author described his true life experience in heaven.

My most vivid memory of heaven is what I heard. I can only describe it as a holy swoosh of wings. But I’d have to magnify that thousands of times to explain the effect of the sound in heaven. ..Melodies of praise filled the atmosphere…Hallelujah! Praise! Glory to God! Praise to the King!

I looked up at Grandpa. “Is this what you are starting to experience and hear Grandpa?” I asked.

The lifeless hand that had lain at Grandpa’s side all day long suddenly squeezed mine.

“Did you just squeeze my hand Grandpa?” I exclaimed with a smile.

No, it had to have been another involuntary reflex I argued with myself. I went to pull my hand away from his to see what would happen and his fingers again curled around mine.

“You are squeezing my hand Grandpa! Please hold on a little longer. Mom is on her way to see you okay.”

I went back to the book and tried to read while still holding his hand. The monitor next to the bed began to beep repeatedly. Blood pressure over two hundred, heart rate one hundred fifty, and oxygen forty-five… Oh no.

I looked at Grandpa. “Are you tired Grandpa? Are you ready to go home now?” I asked. He gave me one more squeeze of his silky fingers around my hand.

“It’s okay if you’re tired, Grandpa. You can say goodbye.”

Oh Lord, my poor Mom.

Kimberly came running in. Grandpa suddenly stopped snoring. His breathing became shallow and soft. His heart rate dropped under seventy and his oxygen level was twenty-three. I looked over at Kimberly.

“This is it isn’t it?” I said sadly.

“Yes…I am afraid so. I am so very sorry this happened so fast. I wish I could have known.”

“It’s okay. Please don’t be sorry. No one knew.”

I moved over to the other side of the bed.

“Grandpa, we all love you so much,” I said as I caressed his forehead. “Mom loves you, Grandma loves you, Uncle Les loves you, Aunt Candy loves you and the whole family loves you.”

“Kimberly, I have to call my Mom. I know I am not supposed to use the phone in here but I need to let her talk to him before it is too late. She needs the opportunity to say one last goodbye.”

“Absolutely-- I will leave the room and you do what you need to do.”

I think God dialed the phone for me. It was 4:33 p.m.

“Mom, I am so sorry. Grandpa isn’t going to last much longer. He’s taken a rapid turn for the worst and is dying. I’m going to put the phone up to his ear so you can say goodbye.” I placed the phone up to Grandpa’s right ear. I listened to my Mom say goodbye to her Dad and tell him she loved him. I hung up and felt numb all over. Kimberly came back in the room. Grandpa hung on for a couple more minutes, then after two huge breaths, this last flight of his lifetime had peacefully come to an end. God landed the plane at 4:35 p.m.--right at Heaven’s door I am certain. Christ was undoubtedly the first person to shake my Grandpa’s hand and say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

It was a bittersweet moment. Although I was devastated to say goodbye to this man of such impeccable character, kindness and wisdom, I was also celebrating the gift of ninety years that the Lord had blessed him and all of his family with. Grandpa deserved to leave this earth without suffering and I couldn’t have been more thankful for this peaceful exit. My heart began aching for my Grandma, my Mom and her siblings. One thing was for certain, Grandpa had left a legacy unmatched by any other. It was a privilege to be his granddaughter. And the gift God had just given me by allowing me the opportunity to help walk my Grandpa home was indescribable.

Kimberly approached me softly.

“You know how I was telling you about my experience with my Dad and his passing?” she said gently. “Well, today just happens to be his birthday. I was just thinking how neat it would be if my Dad were to have greeted your Grandpa just now. Kind of ironic isn’t it?” “I am sure they did meet Kimberly…and that is so awesome. Thank you for everything you have done for our entire family today.”

I then remembered Grandma telling me earlier while she was sitting at Grandpa’s bedside that Grandpa was supposed to read Psalm 23 at their Bible Study the next day. God was still planning on having Grandpa read that Psalm. It just was going to be in front of multitudes of friends and loved one’s up above instead. I can imagine how sweet his voice sounded as he bravely pronounced to all of them, “Even though I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I feared no evil, for He was with me; His rod and His staff, they comforted me.”