I flew in to Chicago on Friday, 3/12, and went straight to the hospital to visit Grandpa. He had a feeding tube and a breathing tube, but for some reason the biggest shocker was that he had four days-worth of stubble. Grandpa shaved every day of his life - he would've been pissed! The entire Petitto family was there: Uncle Joe & his wife Anne, who drove in from Arkansas; Aunt Patty and her kids Corey, Michael & his wife Grant, Gina & her daughter Angelina; Dad, Mom & my brother Bob; Me. Small family, especially for Italians. Grandpa always used to chuckle and say he wanted to have two more kids so that two more kids could take care of him when he was older. Something to think about, I'm sure.
Once the family was ready and waiting, the hospital staff removed both tubes and allowed us back into the room. Bob and Michael said a prayer as we all held hands. I don't think of all of us were in the same room together since my brother Bob & Michelle's wedding in June 25, 2005. Well, I guess all of us were together minus Aunt Anne in February of 2008, when Uncle Mike (Patty's husband) unexpectedly passed from a heart attack.
I guess we were all expecting some type of cinematic experience to occur. Like that he would start sputtering and the machines would all go off and the hospital staff would run in and yell things until the very end. But he just kept breathing, just as he did with the tube. Vitals were just fine. As time went on, family filtered out to eat dinner or to put the kids to sleep, and eventually I was the only one left in the hospital room with him. At 11:00pm the staff moved Grandpa out of the ICU and into a regular room in the center of the hospital, since he was staying so consistent. Every now and then his arms would raise up, or he'd open his eyes (without any recognition) if you spoke loudly to him. For the most part, however, he just breathed real deep and moved his head from side to side on the pillow. I couldn't bare to leave, simply because it was dark and cool in the hospital and because you always hear the stories of those who "passed away in the night." So I stayed until about 2am, when sleep was getting the better of me.
The next day, Saturday, Mom and I went back to visit. He was breathing exactly the same, only this time he was shaved! A very nice nurse had done the task, and he looked back to normal. Kind of. As Grandpa had said to a nurse only a few days earlier, shaving "takes 10 years off" of him. At 94, he was still always the jokester.
Sunday the same. Now we were all wondering if he was just playing us. Just trying to get some well-needed sleep and would be ready to go home soon. I turned to a nurse and said, "Well, he has no feeding tube, though. I mean, it's not like you're going to starve him, right?" She hesitated and responded, "Well, actually, yes that's what it would be." Um, bwah? He was getting medication for pain on top of the regular IV fluid. Other than that, nothing. His heart was at 30% and his kidneys at 6%, but he was breathing fine, his brain activity was fine... it was just tough to think about. Uncle Joe and Anne left to go back to Arkansas, and I never ran into Aunt Patty's kids again - maybe they had already made their peace. I only saw Aunt Patty and my dad, who at one point grabbed Grandpa's arm and said "Keep fighting, Soldier." I guess we all have our coping methods.
On Monday, Mom and I visited Grandpa at 3:00pm. He looked exactly the same. "Ellen" was on television, and Michael Bublé was the guest singer. I put the portable speaker up to Grandpa's ear (they say that hearing is "last to go") and held his hand, moving to the music. At 4:00pm, right before we left, I told him I loved him very much. I also told him that he could rest now, it was time. Gave him a kiss on the forehead and then Mom and I headed out to see Grandma, who was now over at a rehabilitation center for her stroke.
At 6:30pm, Dad called. Grandpa had passed. On March 15, 2010. It was also Dad's birthday.
We had the funeral this past Thursday, 3/18. We brought Grandma from rehabilitation and the whole family, minus Joe & Anne, were once again together.
A couple of years ago, I had given Grandpa a tape recorder. I had thought to perhaps make a movie or write a book about him and his fantastic stories, which he'd tell every time I'd visit. He had filled up the recorder within the first week, and with my being in California, the tape recorder was never cleared for him to begin again. However, I was able to take the audio off the recorder and make a "Grandpa CD," a good hour of all of his endearing tales, from being born to meeting Grandma to having kids, etc. We played it as our funeral service, along with some words from a Catholic priest to follow up. (Side note, but still should be mentioned: Grandpa was born in 1916, so he did still possess traces of a racist mindset. The priest was Indian, and while there were plenty other things to think about in the moment, I couldn't help but wonder if he would've been more upset that such a priest was presiding over his funeral than not being shaved for four days in the hospital. Just saying.) I'm going to miss him like crazy.
Thank you to all who prayed on his behalf. Now please keep Grandma in your prayers, who must not only deal with the loss of her husband of 70 years, but who is continually recovering from multiple strokes, former breast, cervical and thyroid cancer, and a broken hip.
IN MEMORY
Joseph Frank Petitto
1/23/1916 - 3/15/2010
"Nothing is more important than family." - JFP
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