Hardest blog I've ever written

Well little did I know, when I came to Massachusetts for a vacation/visit with my family in October and left with my Gramps not eating much or feeling well that the worst news was still yet to come. I sure didn't expect the reply I got when I sent a Happy Birthday text a couple weeks later either, only to hear back that he was diagnosed with lung cancer, so large, surgery was not possible. He went into the hospital, had 6 radiation treatments, and came home in rough shape. When I showed up for Thanksgiving, which was about a week after him coming home he was in a bed ridden state and I witnessed him not eating or drinking much, but boy did that make the smiles he'd show when he'd be awake and I'd go and say hi to him mean all the world more. I tried to help out as much as possible, and at least give my mom support on the night shift as she was in need of some rest herself. The day after Thanksgiving though we were able to start getting him up, he was asking for food again and even sitting at the table and playing cards. Needless to say, because of all the above when it came time for my trip to end and I was supposed to be leaving for the airport there was just NO way I could do it. I knew where my place was, and it was here with my family. I will say now that it wasn't an easy task for sure, and I probably saw my Gramps laugh and cry more times in these last few months then I ever recall growing up. He slowly started a downward spiral these last couple weeks though to the point where he couldn't feed himself anymore, walk, or even move his feet and bend his legs. The last day he was up and about was Wednesday morning, he woke us at 5:30 a.m. and when I first walked in the room he was crying and he looked at me and said "Why can't I just go to the light" I gotta admit that killed me and I was starting to cry, so luckily my mom came right in at that time and was able to get him up and feed him and take care of him as she did everyday for the last 3 months. That night he had asked me if I could wake him back up before bed time (he would sleep in his chair til then most days) and make him an ice cream sundae little did I know it would be the last thing that he ate. He no longer wanted to get out of bed, he no longer wanted to eat, and he no longer wanted to even drink. I always slept with a baby monitor in my room and Friday night he was gurgling every breath he took. Saturday morning I left and went to the gym, came home and took one look at him and realized this was the end. The gurgling noise had also not stopped and seemed to be even more pronounced, and I will say now that this is the WORST sound I've ever heard in my life. All I could do is pray that God would just take him home, and this had been my prayer the last few weeks as I couldn't stand to see him suffer. My uncle Bumpy and aunt Jodi came to spend time with us all at the house on Saturday too, and around 8:00 p.m. the gurgling was starting to cease. So me, my mom, and Jodi all went in there by his bedside and there we stayed just watching his breaths get fewer and further between. I finally reached out and touched his shoulder and said "Grampy you know we all love you" and then Randy (my dad) and uncle Bumpy came in to be by his side too and I think he took 2-3 more breaths, the last one being at 8:23 p.m. I sure do miss him, and the house just doesn't seem the same already, but in all of this I was able to realize the importance of family and being surrounded by those you love.