Witnessing and Supporting the Grief of a Grandfather

This previous Sunday, my partner, myself, and about 15 of his family members decided to go to the movies to watch ‘Selena.’ Why? Because, how often do you get to watch ‘Selena’ in theatres since it was first released in 1997? Like, never. His grandmother was supposed to go with us just to get out of the house and get some fresh air, but also because, “anything for Selenas” (I hope you all get the reference). After a difficult night of new health issues arising with her husband, her intuition told her to stay, and it was ultimately a premonition of what was to come. It was in the theatre that a text was sent to the family informing them that “grandpa only has 24 hours to live.” Discussing the news after the movie, we decided as a family to go and be with him.

The last couple of months have been emotional, with everyone holding their breath in their chests and anticipating the worst. Putting on brave faces as they comforted their family and prepared for what was to come. Their beloved patriarch, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and tio (uncle) had been declining in his fight with Parkinson’s disease.

If you don’t know what Parkinson’s disease is, I can try to accurately explain it the best I can: it’s a neurodegenerative disease that affects the neurons that produce dopamine in a specific part of the brain. There is no cure. The symptoms can be managed with the help of medical professionals, but once the disease progresses, the decline is rapid and painful for both the patient and their loved ones who care for them. The significant markers of Parkinson’s, that most can identify, are the motor symptoms such as tremors, rigidity, muscle weakness, slow and challenging movement, or trouble with balance and walking. However, the non-motor symptoms are the most impactful on the individual: the anxiety, depression, cognitive impairment, sleep problems, loss of smell, and more.

Before I continue, I’d really like to emphasize what a KING my boyfriend’s grandfather really was. He came to the United States to work and earn his way with his wife and 3 children back home in Mexico. His true passion was food and was a chef for decades and proud owner of several businesses throughout his life. He had 13 children, 30+ grandchildren, and 17 great-grandchildren, the youngest being only 2 weeks old at the time of his passing– an empire.

His children will tell you how he was so gentle, the calm half to his fiery better half. But everyone that knew him would tell you just how loved he really was. They’ll tell you about his famous recipes, his LOVE for the Dodgers, how he loved to swim in the pool, his adoration for his wife and family, and his constant, contagious smile and laughter. He was the father of 13 but also took on the role of “daddy” to some of his grandchildren. He took in other family members and welcomed them and extended his hospitality, comfort, and love as well.

I think it speaks to the type of person he was when there are so many people that feel such a deep connection to him. The fact that he maintained such deep connections with hundreds of people, in my head, I’m like, “how did this man find the time?” Well, he MADE the time. Can you imagine what kind of world we would live in if we made everyone in our lives feel that way? That they are worth our time? That we will never miss our chance to show the people we care about exactly how we feel about them?

Through the duration of the few weeks leading up to his passing, mind you, I am a girlfriend of a grandson and have only been around for 4 years, however, I was there about 2 or more times a week in the final months leading up to his death in support of my partner and his family; I saw every one of his immediate family members, I saw friends, friends of his children and their children, extended family, his nieces and nephews and their children, his cousins and their children. Everyone was there to pay their respects, or to soak in as much time as they could afford to share with him.

Of all the pictures I’ve seen over the last week, my favorites are the ones of him with his entire family. Oh, his smile and the pride he had sitting in the center of this massive empire that he created.

Of all the stories from his final weeks, my favorite was the one when his wife was complaining about something and he leaned over and whispered in one of his daughter’s ears, “why is she so upset? She’s more beautiful than all of her daughters.”

Of all the moments I witnessed, my favorite was when he pressed the little button he had (like a doorbell to signal when he needed assistance) just to call his wife over to hold his hand.

Oh, he was love.

I’ve personally endured a lot of loss in my life, and you’ll hear from others that have endured a lot of loss that “it gets easier,” which is ultimately true, but this…this was hard. Through the chain of events, I had the honor of being present and supporting my best friend and his family as their Grandpa passed.

When we arrived after the movie that day, at approximately 4 pm, from that time until his death, the house was buzzing. There was sadness, anticipation, grief, and laughter. There had to have been close to 100 people coming in and out of the home that afternoon. Buzzing; a warm, throbbing vibration under my chest.

There were so many tears in the home and my heart continued to break as I watched different family members break down as they watched him struggle to breathe. There was also anger and frustration at the insurance company for not being good on their word to bring an oxygen tank to assist him in his last attempts to take breaths.

He was a shell of the lively person that he was in the entirety of his life, but you felt the life that once filled him flowing out amongst the room and pouring into each of his loved ones. You could just feel him holding on until everything was perfectly aligned. Up until the end, he was still able to gather enough energy to acknowledge each person that came that he hadn’t seen in a long time, although he couldn’t open his eyes, he could hear perfectly fine, and everyone knew that he could sense their physical presence.

It wasn’t until he saw the family of his “favorite brother,” when the crowd dwindled down, when the priest read him his last rights, then he was ready. Everyone was watching him ever so closely, and yet, he took his last breath with no one noticing.

He suffered for so long, and while there was one moment before when it seemed as though he took his final breath; the stress of the room, the anxious, pleading group of loved ones rushing to his side… I think he came back and took another breath to calm them, to take care of their hearts the best he could, one last time. And it wasn’t until he could slip away on his own terms that he left, which was quietly, in a way that was peaceful for them– his empire.

A week has passed, and comfortingly, some family members have witnessed and experienced signs that have reassured his presence and peace on the other side. One granddaughter was gifted with several boxes of pecan flavored crackers from a random customer she had never met. The woman urged her over and over again to take them, that they were “for her.” I guess, if you know Vito, you know that he loved pecans.

One of his sons, while discussing with his wife over breakfast about items to place on the altar for the funeral to honor his life as a chef; like an apron or the checkered pants that he wore. They discussed his uniform of choice to wear to the restaurant each day and his chef hat that said, “Kiss the chef.” As they pulled out of the restaurant, alone, under a tree, there laid a vintage doll-like figurine of a little chef wearing the same exact chef's hat, chef’s coat, and the same black and white checkered pants. He shouted, “It’s my dad!” and picked up the doll and took it home.

Signs are there, and they are, in fact, signs if you choose to see them as signs. That spark, that acknowledgment, the recognition of familiarity and peace…it’s them, it’s your loved ones extending a helping hand. If you choose to embrace your sensitivity, your empathy, and intuition, you will know and feel how close they are to you, always. I like to think, that if you take one palm of your hand and place it against your other palm…they are THAT close- and you just made prayer hands, so just talk to them. Take it as you will, but that’s my tidbit of comfort for you.

My grandpa was a father-like figure to me, the best man that I have ever known, and I have never woken up happier than I have from the dreams where he has visited me. I believe Leopoldo is the man of so many peoples’ dreams, as he has already appeared to that same granddaughter, happy, smiling, and telling everyone to be happy. I suspect he will be making many visits to continue to show love and remind those that love him that he’s here and only a conversation away.

I am so grateful to know and love his family. I am blessed to still hold them in my arms as he and all of them welcomed me into theirs. Rest in paradise Grandpa Leopoldo Alvarez-Diaz.

https://www.parkinson.org/understanding-parkinsons/what-is-parkinsons