My paternal grandpa was a great guy - awesome husband (much better than my grandma deserved), great dad, active in his community, etc. He was highly intelligent, creative, strong, gentle, with a wry sense of humor. He's had Alzheimer's for a few years now, with a violent streak for at least two years (a little over a year ago, on a good day, he thought it was just past WWII. He sang and laughed and danced with me at my wedding, but he also asked if I was at Pearl Harbor during the bombing. Grandpa has been gone for a few years.)

Recently, they moved him into a nursing home. Last week, he stopped eating altogether - he'll take some fluids, but that's it. He doesn't say anything other than "yeah." He stopped pacing all the time. My dad visited him yesterday, and the only acknowledgement he gave was that he reached to hold my dad's hand on the way to his room, and he glanced at a shirt my dad got him. His eyes were on the floor except for the second that he glanced at the shirt. He just toddled from the dining room to his bed and went to sleep.

We're going to visit my relatives for a few days next week, then we're going to a wedding in Oregon. As much as I hope, for his sake, that he doesn't have much time left, I want him to at least hold on for two more weeks, so I can at least make it to his funeral. I feel bad for wanting him to hold on - I could just make it out there any other week. (And I'm posting all this here because, well, my husband's grandparents died when he was a kid, and my friends either don't have grandparents left or they never had a relationship with them. At least I had a loving, supportive, brilliant grandpa until my 20s. AND I still have the other one around.)