2003-09-02 - 2:45 p.m.
The spa weekend was wonderful. I got two massages (one of which was not good) and a facial, as well as a nice long soak in the waters. We came home loaded with goodies, including some nice art and five gallons of spring water.
Then I came home to a message that my grandfather had passed away Sunday night. Grandpa was almost 85 years old and had been suffering from Alzheimer's. I'm sad, but I'm also happy that he's at peace now. Poor Grandpa--he should not have had to suffer as he did. He was always a strong and proud man, and I know that's how everyone who knew him will remember him.
I feel as though I should be writing something profound, something about how death is this great mystery and solemn miracle, but mostly I guess I'm just confused. My grandfather never should have gotten Alzheimer's. It seems grossly unfair that a man who started off life with so little and worked so hard to give his family and his children everything should end his life with his reason gone. This doesn't seem like a holy miracle to me. My grandfather was the hardest worker and the most fair man I've ever known. He had a wonderful life for the most part--he and my grandmother had a little under 70 years together, sixty of those in marriage, and the vast majority of those years were good. But a part of me is furious at the disease that stole my Grandpa from me long before death did.
I don't know. These things aren't ours to decide. But I'll be walking in the Alzheimer's Memory Walk this October in his memory.
Die Entfuehrung aus dem Serail (The Abduction From
Which Mozart Opera Does Your Life Most Resemble?
brought to you by Quizilla