Bruce, my step-grandfather, was getting up there in age. He was 96 years old and passed December 18, 2017 at 6:20am. I first met Bruce around 1984 when his daughter, Sally, married my Dad. My mom passed the year before. Bruce was a funny "old" dude. He had big ears a big laugh and a quiet personalty. But, oh boy, was he interesting. He was in the Army in World War II, worked for the Union Pacific Rail Road, was an avid gardner, and travelled - A LOT. I remember being in awe of his tales from his travels - especially Egypt.
Over the last several years, Bruce was slowing down - duh, he was in his 90s. His mind was sharp but his body was showing signs of fatigue. He had to have a pacemaker at one point, and I think when he had to have the battery or the pacemaker itself replaced, he had a reaction to the dye and almost died on the operating table. When Sally asked him if he saw a "light" when he flatlined, Bruce said something like - "No, my eyes were closed." He always had a wry sense of humor like that. As he got older, he got more tired. It was visibly more difficult for him to get around. He was more winded and everything took more effort. He started using a cane, and I think for a time, he used a walker. Then, he stopped leaving the house as much, then he stopped leaving the house. Then he stopped getting out of bed as much, then he stopped getting out of bed.
He was diagnosed with a tumor in his esophagus and learned it was cancer. It was inoperable cancer. It was going to kill him. They arranged for hospice care for Bruce (in-home) and it was only a matter of time.
I, thankfully, was able to see him about a week before he passed. I was in LA to see my dad (we'll get to him in a second) and we went to see Bruce. He was so tiny. He complained of being cold. But he had all his wits about him. My dad and I sat and talked with Bruce for a little more than an hour. He told tales of some of his travels (his fave trip was Egypt). He talked about the various things on his walls - one wall was full of railroad-related things - his working life. One wall was full of his Army things - his war life. One wall was full of his travel things - his adventurous life. He said he wanted to be surrounded by the things that made him happy - and all of these things did just that.
He talked about hoping he lead a good life. He said several times that he thought he did, and that he thought he did the right things. He talked about some of the time when he was in the War and how he found ways in the system to get things - film for his camera - and how to get the film home to his parents to be developed. I didn't know, but he spent the first part of his time in the Army in Northern Africa, and then went into Europe after D-Day.
He complained that he was cold, tired, and wanted a steak. He said he loved when the "large gentleman" came to bathe him. At the end of his "bath", given to him while he was in bed, the man would take warm towels and massage his feet. He said it felt so good, and that he loved that.
Many years ago, he self-published a book Act 2: WWII - The Adventures of Bruce Monkman 1941-1945.After being refused by the Navy in December 1941 (right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor) on two separate occasions "small hernia", Bruce defied his mother's wishes and went to join the Army on December 23, 1914. Apparently the Army wasn't concerned by small hernias.
During his medical exam for the Army, Bruce had to:
"...sit in a chair, bare bottom and all, with the doctor at my side about three feet from me, who whispered quite loudly, "Can you hear me?" Naturally I could hear him; it was just below normal talk. I passed my hearing test with flying colors. I'm in the Army now."The book is fascinating with many with pictures and documents Bruce kept from his time in the War. He was always proud of the time he spent in the military. He was active in his Army reunions - making pins and keepsakes with the logo of his division on them.
When I talked with Bruce in December, he said that now he's basically the only one left from his original unit - they had all gotten old and passed. As I sat there, listening to him talk about his life, I kept thinking of the irony. To my left was Bruce - sharp as a tack, but with a failing body. And, to my right was my Dad - decent body, but with a failing brain.How overwhelmingly maddening.
Shortly after Bruce passed at home surrounded by his wife and two daughters, my Husband and I got word that his Uncle Paul was diagnosed with Stage 4 Colon Cancer. Paul was just 68 when he passed. He retired at the beginning of December 2017. He had a retirement party planned in Mid-December but had to cancel it because he wasn't feeling well. His daughter took him to urgent care on December 20th and he got the diagnosis then. He passed on January 20th at 3:16am.
He had plans. All kinds of plans of things he wanted to do after he retired, but he never got the chance. It's so tragic. Of course, we know that we won't live for ever. But life has a funny way of evading people at the most fucked up times.
I was talking recently with a friend of mine about this, and she posed this question - would it be better or worse if every human had a known expiration date?
My mom passed in her 40s - so much life left to live. But she did live a lot - she and my dad traveled all over the place, and took my brother and I camping all around California and vicinity. We had lots of fun and did lots of things. But, come on, she left a 12 and a 14 year old and her husband way too soon.
Bruce was around for 96 years - full of life and adventure. Sharp as a tack until the very end.
Paul got 68 years, and was robbed of time to be free of work obligations and free to do what he pleased. Now, he wasn't a shut in who never did anything. But still - he had plans.
Contrast this to my boss's grandmother who is still healthy as an ox at 102. And, I sat next to a lady on a flight the other week who was on her way to stay with her mom, who is 105, for a week while her caretaker has a vacation.
How would things be different for these people if we all had the same expiration date? I've thought about this since she said it. In one way it would give us a timeline to work back from. In another way, we'd have this looming "end" moving ever closer as the years progressed. I'm not certain if this would be a blessing or a curse. Maybe both. It sort of reminded me of a movie called "In Time" with Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried. In this movie, people stop aging at 25 and only live a year later unless you can buy your way out. Of course, the rich, can do this, but those of less means can't. I guess if it came to this in real life, people should ALL have the same expiration date - no exceptions. But, hey, life isn't a science fiction book (yet).
I think this helps strengthen my desire make the most out of life NOW - don't wait. It might be too late.
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