Last night, at 7:10 PM exactly, my grandfather passed away in his sleep at the age of 92. He survived the Great Depression, World War II, and his wife’s passing, not to mention having my mom and uncle as kids.
Sunday morning, my grandfather was hospitalized. He had cancer, we knew, but we didn’t know that the end was coming so quickly. Sunday morning, Anthony (My grandfather’s step-grandson) was told that he had six months to live. Hours later, the doctor said that my grandfather probably wouldn’t last the night.
Sunday evening, I got a call from my mom, telling me to get down from New York, quick. I hopped on a bus at 1:30 in the morning, arrived in Chinatown in DC around 6:30, and took the metro out to Virginia, where I met my mom at the metro station. Another bus took us to the town where my uncle lives, and we drove down together to the Outer Banks in North Carolina.
My mom and uncle actually behaved themselves more I expected. Usually in car trips (the last one was to bury their aunt just one year ago), they’re at each others’ throats the entire way.
When we finally got to the hospital, we walked into my grandfather’s room. He was sleeping with his mouth open, just like I remembered he used to. At first we thought he was snoring, but then realized that the sound we heard was the fluid that had built up in his lungs. About 90 minutes later he started breathing shallower. We called the nurse, and just as she was taking his vital signs, he took his last breath.
His death was very peaceful, and I’m grateful that there was no pain. This was the first time I’ve ever watched somebody die. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The hardest was watching my mom watch her daddy die. She cried, “What am I going to do without him!” and I just held on to her because I didn’t know what else to do.
After a few minutes, I started making the phone calls. Yet another impossible task, but one that couldn’t be put off. I choked through very short phone calls, and went back to the hospital room, just before the funeral home came to take him away.
My grandfather was one of the strongest people I ever knew. He grew up in a Catholic orphanage in New York during the Great Depression, sometimes not having food for days or weeks at a time. He was a sailor who survived his ship being sunk by the Germans during World War II.
He survived his wife of more than 40 years, after she had a stroke. He had to take care of her for years before she finally passed away in 1997. He remarried soon after (too soon a lot of us thought at the time) to a wonderful woman named Grace, who I will meet for the first time today. He’s had to take care of her also, but in the end, he was the one who had to be taken care of, which I’m sure he hated to no end.
And through it all, the sound of his voice couldn’t help but make you smile. He was just that way. He was always there, through thick and thin. I wish I had known him better. I will miss him.
RIP Edward Trenz
1917-2009
If you’re interested in one or both of these sessions, 
