He knows there is nothing that can be done and he is ready to just close his eyes and be together again with my grandma.
The nurses pulled me aside yesterday and said he officially had the doctor sign a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) and that he had lost his fight.
I went in and watched him snooze. I took his hand and whispered, "The nurses said you are giving up. Have you lost your fight, granpa?"
He opened his eyes and said, "Yah." And then he closed them again.
I'm not gonna lie, I shed a few tears because I was sad to hear him so depressed and weak. But, I quickly composed myself and started talking about my day.
"You can't sleep your day away," I said. "Wake up and talk to me."
He closed his eyes and was quiet for a while, when I said, "You want a drink, granpa? I'll sneak you in some rye."
His eyes POPPED open, I'm not even kidding I laughed out loud. "Really? You will?"
I giggled and said, "Yes, the nurse actually told me you can have a drink."
When the nurses told me about the DNR, they also told me that he was declining rapidly because he wasn't eating or drinking and he refused his IV so he was close to dehydration. I joked that if there was rye in his water, he'd drink it and the nurse said that they would be more than happy to get an order for a cocktail for the old boy.
Honestly, I was a little surprised but she said that in his case, where he's dying and there's not much time left, they make exceptions.
So, when I told him the good news, it added at least a couple of days to his life because I told him he couldn't have any until today.
"See," I pointed out, "you've still got some fight left in you!"
He laughed and nodded.
This whole process has been long, and I am weary. Emotionally, physically and mentally, I am drained. But I've come to terms with everything and accepted the way it is. I will miss him dearly but at least I know we're both going to be OK. He'll go to my grandma and I'll still have my memories.
Until then, we still have each other.