Harold Wiggins 1928-2006

It wasn't a grand surprise or anything but this morning I got the call from my dad that my grandpa had passed away. In case you don't know, he has been suffering from Parkinson's for probably the last 20 years or so. The last week and a half he's been pretty much confined to bed and in the last few days he was pretty much in a coma-like state and hadn't eaten or drank anything. There was plenty of advance warning, I heard yesterday he wouldn't make it through today.

In a lot of ways I'm really feeling more relief than anything else. The man lying in that bed when I visited last really wasn't my grandfather. A husk, a shell, maybe. I don't really understand Parkinson's but I know it pretty much reduced his ability to take care of himself and communicate to effectively nothing. But as I said, he's had it for a long, long time, at least as far back as I can remember, it just wasn't this bad until a year or two ago.

One of the amazing things that I'll always remember about him is his pre-dinner prayers. Whenever we were all together for a meal he would always pray. I used to just assume he kind of said the same thing over and over but in the last few years I started paying attention a bit more. The strokes he endured might have made him mumble a bit more but every single prayer was unique with maybe a few familiar phrases thrown in, which everyone does. This Thanksgiving was the first time he didn't pray and I was asked to do it, being the "professional" and all I suppose. I don't know if it was his choice or grandma's, but somewhere that day I feel like a torch of some sort was passed and that's when it really became real to me that we were going to lose him before long.

One thing this experience has revealed to me is the strength of the character of my grandma. John 15:13 is what comes to mind when I think of her through this ordeal: "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." She didn't literally give up her life for him, but there's no other way to describe the way she cared for him and loved for him over these last years. Her entire life was devoted to caring for him, trying to make him comfortable, and enjoying their time together. I think it broke her heart to have to acknowledge the need for hospice care. The last time I was with her she broke down crying confessing that she felt like there was something else that she should be doing. I can't believe she could even think that. She had gone so far beyond what most people would be capable of in terms of patience and perserverance. If I could ever be half the spouse that she has been I would count myself extremely lucky. I've never seen anything like her and I'm proud she's my grandma :)

The other half of my relief stems from the fact that I know, for him, things are much, much better. His abilities are restored and he's with our Lord. That's what we're aiming for, isn't it? It's hard to shed tears for him knowing what he's enjoying over there on the other side. I guess any tears now are going to be for missing him threatening to put me in a garbage can and hearing those prayers before meals.

Just before writing this I finished watching one of my favorite episodes of the show Firefly. In the episode of "Out of Gas" Captain Mal Raynolds and his crew are stranded on a ship without power and life support. True to his character and his stature as captain, Mal decides he is going to go down with his ship. One of the ship's crew pleads with him to get on one of the lifeboats so he doesn't have to die alone. He responds, "Every man dies alone." For some reason, maybe just in the context of today, this line resonates with me. I don't know how much I agree with it but there is no doubt we go to our ends by ourselves with the hope that there will be something on the other side. I have a feeling Grandpa was very alone on his journey, I really don't even know how cognizant he was of everything that was happening. But what makes this a gainful event and not one of loss is seeing him step across that river and up onto the bank while a hand extends to him saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant."