My husband and I had just begun our 3 month return trip to Ecuador, and we had found a relaxed hostel in Baños to settle down. Our routine was starting to feel comfortable: a healthy breakfast of fruits and veggies, a strenuous hike to the top of the statue Virgin del Agua Santa, several hours of writing articles and building our website, and an evening cooking delicious dinners filled with local ingredients from the market. It felt like my head was clearer than it had been in awhile, and I was really excited about discovering this hidden gem of a town.

When the email came that my grandfather had been taken to the hospital on Tuesday morning, I had a gut feeling that our trip would be coming to an abrupt end.

PopPop Wally had been suffering with Alzheimer’s disease for the past year, and there had been a shocking difference in his behavior shortly after we had left. The afternoon of our flight, we had lunch at my grandparents’ house to say our goodbyes. PopPop ate a substantial meal, made jokes about us leaving, and told us to be sure to visit more often. Although his memory had faded and he no longer realized I was his own granddaughter, his spirits were always high and his health seemed to be pretty good. His posture had begun to slag, and he shuffled his feet when he walked; but this was all to be expected with this debilitating disease.

Just a week later, he fell on Christmas Day. Mom (his eldest daughter) thought that he had been having mini-strokes, because it seemed like his motor skills were getting worse almost overnight. Only a short ten days later, a family member noticed that he was having trouble eating his breakfast. His body was lethargic, and he appeared to have trouble sitting up straight. This was the day he was taken to the hospital. This was the day I knew our trip was over.

Nobody could believe how fast this disease was progressing. I think many in the family had considered that sufferers of Alzheimer’s can live for 5, 8, 10 years or more; but typically their lives are vegetative and in a state of utter confusion. It was a terrible realization to contemplate. We all wanted the doctors to assure us that we would have more time with PopPop, and we’d be laughing at his silly behavior soon again.

Mom and her sister were wrought with an abundance of stressful decisions. They visited over a dozen rehabilitation centers and nursing homes. The family had been told that PopPop possibly just had a UTI (urinary tract infection). In the elderly, this infection can lead to stroke-like symptoms. The tests came back negative, and so did the swallowing tests that were performed to see if he had lost the ability to eat or drink. Rehab was out of the question, since he could no longer be taught how to swallow. By Friday, MomMom had to face the decision of whether her husband should be transferred to hospice care or return to his home for his final days. It was all happening so fast.

Thanks to the wonders of Skype, my sister was able to reach me in Ecuador on Friday. The doctor’s had given PopPop two to five days in hospice. If I hurried, I could see him one last time. I was filled with grief and denial. He was eating lunch and laughing with us the day we left, the week before Christmas, less than three weeks ago. I could not imagine what went wrong. I immediately turned my worries toward my mom, my Aunt, and mostly my MomMom.

MomMom and PopPop had met working together at Beta Shoe Company over 60 years ago. PopPop liked to tell the story about how he helped MomMom at work, and it seemed like he would always be flirting with her on the job. They dated for just a few short weeks before they were married.

They went through some tough times, as many families did during that time. They worked hard to get by, raising three children with very little income. They lost one son during birth, and their eldest child lost his life in a car crash at a young age. They built the house they lived in most recently from the ground up, and when I was a child they grew all of their vegetables in a huge garden on the side of their house. Their two daughters both had children, and those children had children. Their house was filled to the brim every Sunday after church, as we all gathered to make Sunday dinner together. MomMom would make her southern biscuits, and the grandkids would be spoiled with cinnamon twirls before dinner, made out of her leftover dough. The aroma of fried chicken, gravy and mashed potatoes was common. PopPop always had a healthy appetite for dinner, but he never forgot to save room for dessert. Even if we had plenty, he’d usually manage to swing by the store to pick up his favorite coconut cake on the way home from church. You know, just in case we ran out.

When MomMom was in her early 70’s, she was in a terrible car accident. I was studying in London when I got the call from mom. She was put in a helicopter and flown to shock trauma. The doctors said she would probably not survive, and when they realized she was such a strong fighter, they thought at least that she would surely never walk. She proved them wrong again. They filled her with pins and metal plates, but she eventually got her balance back. Well, most of it. She now needs a walker most days, and arthritis has disfigured her joints. At the age of 80, PopPop had retired at the request of his daughters. He started to take on more of MomMom’s responsibilities: folding the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, going to the grocery store, mowing the lawn and getting the mail. It kept him busy, and he took pride in being able to care for his wife now that she needed him more than ever.

A few years later, the tables had flipped again. With Alzheimer’s, PopPop slowly lost the ability to handle simple tasks. He got the mail, but forgot he had gone out seconds after he returned. Making coffee had always been second nature, but he would lose focus in the middle of filling the coffee grounds. The simple process sometimes took half an hour, and eventually someone would have to take over. The family knew it was our turn to start caring for them, the way they had taken care of us for so many decades of their lives.

The children, grandkids and their spouses started “picking up shifts” – taking over dinner, cleaning the house, driving PopPop to the grocery store, and visiting for hours every week. Around this time, my husband and I had settled near my family for a few months while we were planning our wedding. We were fortunate to spend several days a week visiting my grandparents, helping out with daily activities and enjoying PopPop’s stories (over and over). Caretakers were eventually hired on to fill in the daytime hours when family could not always be there, but everyone seemed to enjoy taking on the responsibility and spending the quality time with MomMom and PopPop.

Perhaps one of the most difficult decisions ever made, MomMom chose to move PopPop to hospice care that Friday. He would have better care there, and it would be more comforting for the family. He was taken to the Senator Bob Hooper House. Senator Hooper was an old friend of the family. He and PopPop had helped to build their church, and he had taught PopPop’s children and grandchildren in Sunday School for many years. This house was built in his honor, and now it was an honor to have my grandfather being taken care of in such an outstanding facility.

My husband and I arrived back in Maryland on Wednesday, six days after PopPop was admitted to hospice. The family was told he would probably not make it past Tuesday, but he showed his strength and courage even in his final days. We went straight from the airport to the hospice. I was told to be prepared about his appearance. I had already prepared myself for his death. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to see him in this state, but I knew I had to hold his hand and tell him I loved him.

He had lost so much weight, he wasn’t wearing his teeth and he was wearing a catheter. It didn’t even look like him. When I walked over to him and took his hand in mine, he squeezed it tight. He smiled a toothless grin. He whispered that he wanted cookies.

The next couple days were hard on everyone. He was on a roller coaster going up, and we were all trying hard to not be too encouraged. He started eating pureed food – three meals a day plus dessert. He was slurping down ice chips, and I even managed to sneak him a little coffee (his favorite drink). The nurses warned us that these ups and downs are common. Sometimes people get to leave hospice, but more often some people just find the strength in their final days to hold on to every bit of energy they still have.

My husband and I went to visit him one evening. He had been in hospice now for a week. He was sound asleep, and he had been for a few hours. For the past three days that I was able to visit him, he was awake at most times and fighting to be able to go home. He would ask everyone if he could leave. Could we just get his keys? Where’s his coat? Is it time to go home? He was anxious at night, and the nurses had trouble keeping him in his bed.

I knew when we saw him asleep and peaceful that evening that things had taken a turn. He slept the next couple of days, and he was not taking in any food or water anymore. On Monday morning, MomMom had gone with her caretaker to visit him. He was breathing slowly and barely able to open his eyes. They told her that it may be an hour or even 24 hours, but that the family should probably make plans to say their final goodbyes.

One phone call was made, and then a dozen more. Everyone was making sure that all of the family members had been contacted, and we all started to pile into PopPop’s room. The daughters, the husbands, the children, the spouses, and the grandchildren – we filled the room with our presence and our love. We took turns holding his hands, whispering, “I love you” into his ear. We smiled together as we reminisced about PopPop’s love of sweets, his passion for mowing the lawn and his love of the church. The pastor came to be with him and the family. As he prayed for PopPop, my grandfather began to raise his hands and let out cries. We all knew he could feel the power of the prayer, and that he was praising the God he had dedicated his life to years ago.

As the day turned into night, we ordered in dinner. Some went home to pick up pajamas and toothbrushes to bring back to the hospice. We spread out throughout the entire building. Nobody wanted to leave PopPop, and nobody wanted to leave each other.

Around 11:00 p.m., my grandmother asked to be taken home. After almost 12 hours at hospice, her legs were shaking with pain and she needed her rest. She told her Wally how much she loved him, that she didn’t know what she would do without him, and how she truly felt she should be the one passing first. PopPop’s grip began to tighten on his grandson’s hand, and we all knew that he didn’t want his wife to leave his side.

I took her home, and we all tried to rest for several hours. In the morning, we called hospice and PopPop was still in the same condition. He had held on through the night. I told them I would get her back as soon as she was ready. We arrived around 10:00 a.m., and MomMom slowly pushed her walker to his room at the end of the hall. Her chair was pulled beside his bed, and she was able to hold his hand. In the next 15 minutes, PopPop’s breathing became staggered, slower and deeper. He had waited for his wife to return before he went on his way. We all knew it was his final moments, and we all gathered around closer. We held his hands, rubbed his legs and smoothed his forehead. We took turns telling him how much we loved him, and how much we were going to miss him. We cried on each other’s shoulders, and we held onto each other for support. As he took his last breath, we all squeezed each other hard and let out cries of grief.

PopPop’s grandson asked if anyone had the strength to pray. We had formed a circle of unity around my grandfather, and we all closed in that circle with our arms and hands. My mother began to pray, and when she was done my grandmother continued with her own prayer.

For almost another hour, nobody left his side. We took turns calling loved ones and to make necessary arrangements, but we continued to fill that room with all of the love and support we could muster together. That night, we did the only thing that made sense for us to do. We all went to my grandparents’ house, and we cooked up fried chicken and mashed potatoes. We filled the house with our family and our love. It gave us all comfort to be there together – in the house that PopPop built – exactly where he would have wanted us to be.

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 Alzheimer’s is a terrible disease that affects too many people. A fund has been set up in PopPop Wally’s honor through the Alzheimer’s Association. Your donation helps research and support. Click here for more information.

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Just a note: When Jason and I found out that we had to change our travel plans and return home, he said to me that all of our good luck couldn’t last forever. I mulled that comment over for a while, and then reflected that this actually was more good luck happening to us. As terrible as it was that my grandfather had gotten so ill, it was truly a blessing that I was able to come home immediately and be with my family. The nomadic lifestyle that we have chosen for the past few years allotted us this privilege. I can’t help but think that if we were working our corporate jobs in Colorado, we would never had been able to spend several days a week taking care of my grandfather for the last few months of his life. I never would have been able to just fly home to be with my family for his last week, and I certainly would not have been able to stay for weeks longer to spend quality time with the rest of my family during this time of grief.  Travel arrangements don’t always work out as planned, as is the same with many things in life. We are learning to accept interruptions and to follow down the alternative path that may present itself instead. In the end, it always works out.