Walter

I was just writing a blog about the time we spent with grandma in hospice. That it was such a beautiful time, but also so exhausting, truly a mixed feeling. And that I, despite everything, would do anything to go back to that time. No matter how exhausting it was, how hard it was, as long as my grandma would be there, I think it's doable.

Then I got a call yesterday morning from my mom, Walter is not doing good. Walter is my grandma's partner, my grandpa actually. They have been together 23 years, but we always just called him Walter. He's not been doing good for a while though. He's been battling cancer in his bladder for a couple of years, he's struggling a lot with a swollen leg and recently got diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He's been saying for longer than a decade that 'his computer' is giving up, but now it was for real. At the end of 2025, he was hospitalised. When he recovered, he was brought to a retirement home. Staying at home wasn't an option.

I didn't visit him often in the retirement home. It was confrontational for me to see him, because we just left a situation where we saw someone decline. I also thought I still had time, but I didn't. Mom told me on the phone that Walter had a difficult morning. He struggled with his breathing. They put him to sleep and told the family it would be best if we could come as soon as possible to say our goodbyes. We quickly got dressed and left for the retirement home. He would wake up again after a couple of hours and then they would analyse the situation again. But, during the wake-up phase, his breathing became troubled again. They decided to keep him asleep until he would pass. We stayed with him for the whole day, and everyone came by. I said goodbye in the evening, thinking he would still be here the next day, but he wasn't.

In the middle of the night, his breathing worsened, he took a deep breath, let out a sigh and then it was over.

That one day we spent by his side, and I thought about how long he would live, or if I should bring some things to do tomorrow, the panic you feel when he makes an odd noise while breathing or the breaks in the breathing... That made me think about the mixed feeling. But, now I mostly felt the bad things: the agitation, the fear, the not knowing. I would truly do anything to be back with grandma in hospice. But the sedation, seeing your loved ones asleep, knowing a deeper sleep is coming and not knowing if they can hear you, or feel your presence, if they are in pain, or scared, I never want to go back there again. It's something so unnatural, so terrible to see, an image and an experience that you'll never let go and that will never let you go.