Little texted me Wednesday night to let me know Pop passed away. She wanted me to know right away because she knew how important he was in my life. Little is deep. Big is deep too, but she’s more introspective. She holds a lot in. Not Little. She lets you know what’s what. We chatted back and forth for quite a while. I didn’t cry about losing Pop till Little told me he’s with Papa (Mr. Virgo) now and we’ll see them again when we die. Wow…she’s nine.

There was part of Pop’s story I didn’t put in his tribute the other day…partly out of space constraints and story line, partly out of respect for his and other’s privacy. But, I think this part is important information so I’m going to share it with you today.

The night Pop collapsed at the assisted living facility, he stopped breathing. He was 92. He had a living will and a DNR request. DNR…Do Not Resuscitate. Somehow that information was not conveyed to the ambulance crew and they intubated Pop on the way to the ER. Later, he told his son he had died and it was very peaceful. He said he was wearing a sweater so he was warm and comfortable. He was pretty ticked off that they brought him back though later he said he’d rather stick around for a while if that was alright.

When Little texted me with the news, I told her I was sorry. She said, “Well, he has his sweater now.” A comforting thought. The really sad, and frustrating, thing…for Bernie AND the family…was knowing he’d had his window. The gates were open and he could have slipped through peacefully. Instead, he went through the nightmare of ICU and then the long, difficult process of dying. It wasn’t fair…this sweet gentle man, and his kind, loving granddaughter and son had to witness that when it never should have happened in the first place.

DNR orders are pretty easy to put into place. There are packets you can get from your doctor or your local hospital that you can fill out with all of your requests. But mistakes can be made and those mistakes can cause harm. I’ve decided once I get to the age when I seriously don’t want to be resuscitated, I am having “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” tattooed on my chest. I’m not kidding…what an awful experience that was for those involved.

Compounded grief. Not only does it come when there is a rapid succession of deaths in your life, but the grief of one loss can be compounded by stupid mistakes. Or by regret…for not visiting, not calling, not saying the things in your heart. When you’ve suffered the intimate grief of losing someone significant, each successive grief adds a brick to the load. That being said, everyone’s grief is the worst grief ever because it is theirs. It is personal. I don’t want to compound my family’s grief when it’s my time to go. So, I’ll be proactive and make sure my wishes are clearly known ahead of time by the important people in my life.

Rest In Peace, Pop….you were loved. ❤️