John Caines Bowditch
(1922 — 2016*)
He finally stopped breathing around 11:30 tonight. And we'd only been and said our good-nights to him less than an hour ago. (And just ten minutes before we got the call, he was checked on my the attendants and was deemed fine)
Seems the stroke he had brought on something called sepsis, which attacks the back of the head just where the spine is and shuts the body down gradually. We could've cured him of it, but then he would've been a vegetable for the rest of his life...and he was already chair-ridden, had a chest infection and was deaf and going blind. When we got to the care home, we found him yellow (his kidneys), his eyes sunken and his mouth open like a dried-up fish out of water...
Least he passed away in comfort.
I didn't want to go when we got the call, since I'm not use to a situation like this and with my Asperger's could make it worse without meaning it, but I went for my father's sake. My sister made sure I was okay, and I was able to compose myself...even though she burst into tears outside grandpa's room... (I shall probably cry when the funeral commences)
I went in and said my finals goodbyes to my grandpa and gave in a final kiss. I had not hoped it wouldn't come to this, as if he HAD pulled through at least he'd've lived to see my sister's wedding in June...
...but that is the Circle of Life. It's all about living, but it's also about death.
(* = Ironicly, he passed away of the eve of my uncle's birthday)
Farewell, Grandpa John. And good luck. May you finally Rest in Peace as you walk about in that great parade-ground in the sky.