It’s weird. Death makes no sense. It can be slow and painful or quick and easy. Sometimes it lets you wait until all your loved ones have said goodbye, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes you get a snapshot look at your life before it comes, sometimes it gives you days. Sometimes it fights with a stubborn spirit to take you away, sometimes the spirit doesn’t want to fight and is willing to go.

Right now, I see death beginning to take over my grandpa. The gaunt face, the heavy breathing, the glazed eyes, the bare bones. It’s like seeing someone from the Holocaust. He hasn’t eaten in at least a week and his skin is changing from white to purple. He was supposed to be gone days ago, but he’s still here and we don’t know why. Why is he fighting this? He’s seen everyone. Everyone has said their goodbyes and we’ve all prayed and cried and prayed and cried for several days now. We are ready for him to leave because he needs to go finally meet the Lord.

And that’s where death comes in. No one talks about it because no one understands it. It’s like one day you’re here and then when death decides to take you, you’re gone the next. No one really knows how to deal with it. All we can do is wait for death to take its final blow on grandpa. The prayer is that when his body takes that final breath, the angels will be there to take his soul home. And that’s where we will all see him again.