About two years ago my great grandfather went into a coma, his first ever really serious one. We all thought he would pull right out of it, he had had over 24 heart attacks before this and he had survived everyone. But when two weeks went by without a change, my mom and i drove down to visit him. Everyone was hoping that if we came down, and he heard the sound of my voice in the room, and i was sitting right next to him; I'd be able to pull him out of the coma and he would be just fine and go back to being normal.But on the car ride down fromto , i couldn't keep from thinking, "What if i cant get him to pull through? How will everyone react to that?" This thought of mine only happened for a few minutes, but those minutes kept playing over and over again in my brain.
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The drive down takes a few hours, and by the time we had finally made it to the hospital it was close to eleven at night. I didn't want to go up the hospital's elevator. I didn't want my possible last images of my great grandfather to be of him laying under a sheet and knowing he wouldn't wake up and talk to me if i tickled his feet. But we all have to face things we don't want to, sooner or later we all do. At that time of night you'd have thought no one would be up, but both my grandmother and great grandmother were waiting on us to show up. I had refused to speak unless it was absolutely necessary, and even when i did it was in a low whisper. Until i was practically pushed toward his bed, and they said i should talk with him cause he could hear me. The only thing i could hear in the room was his heart monitor, every one else in the room had stopped breathing.
And after i'd said my first sentences to him, and they had sunk in; everyone realized he wasn't going to wake up. His little Angel as he would call me, couldn't bring him back. The emotions on their faces were heart breaking: shock, disappointment, sadness. It was so much to bare, but i had to try to be strong for everyone else in the room. What happened to me on that trip is, i always felt like to this day i still have disappointed everyone because i couldn't bring him back. I always feel like i should try so much more with my own family, to make up for something that wasn't even in my control.
I've never felt like i can talk to them about this stuff after that trip. I'm always afraid that in some weird twisted sense, i'll end up disappointing them even more.
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