For the past week my grand-fahter has been recovered once more in the same hospital where he spent almost six months last year.
Today, after extensive exams, my father and the other doctors have conveyed, my wonderful Orso Bruno, has the same respiratory infection that clogged his lungs last year. My first response to this verdict was mostly unnerving. I was discouraged and hopeless, especially because for the past week my sister Paola and I had spent every waken hour there, by his bed side to cheer him up, watch when he slept and when he was awake that everything possible to happen was not happening.
Last February, we have seen the other grandpa leave this world for the other, in that same room…memories are too strong for everybody, but me since I was away. This time, I am here, but I do not want this to be the last goodbye. I want this to be just another beginning because this grandpa is another father to me. He has come to visit me in Colorado six times, despite the altitude and the snow. He has helped me get there and stay there, I lived his American dream, the one he gave me after years of work despite the death of his parents in Auschwitz. He is my ever after. He is the Man! He must get well because he does not deserve this suffering.
I am the one who is always positive in my family. I am the one who always sees it pink and flowery, I am the one who cheers the room up every time there is a reason to. I get it, I am have to be the one this time too, and I will be…but com`on Universe, please, listen to my prayers too, we need you to give us strength and hope as well.
Enough with the idea that everyone has to die. I know this is not his turn. I feel it. I know it. I can tell. He is too distinct of an individual to lay on a hospital bed, naked with a diaper and a catheter and oxygen coming out of his nose. He is my grandpa Bear. There must be another option to this.
I have to know. I will know. I will do. I am here to stay and so is he.