Authentic Life

Authentic Life. That phrase might mean something different to every one of us. To me, it defines those moments that life is made up of. No pretense, no filler, nothing but raw life. Raw. Life. Experiencing those moments are far and few between, but undeniable while they are happening. Moments like new life entering the world, jubilant celebrations of the heart, great sadness, and death.

Death. It's a hard word. A word that encompasses vast extremities of meaning. Within that word many emotions, thoughts, and experiences dwell. Great sadness, tears, joy, happy musings, laughter, finality. The ending of this life, but I believe the beginning of a better one.

This summer my Grandpa, Earl "The Pearl" Haggerty, passed away. I had the absolute privilege to be with him during his last days. It was a time I wasn't looking forward to. In fact, you could say I was dreading it. I remember having the very conscience thought that "This is what being an adult is all about. Knowing ahead of time something is going to be excrutiating. That it will forever alter your heart, and going into the situation anyway." My mom, Porter, and I started our drive to Great Falls thinking we were going just to be with him before and after surgery, but within the matter of 3 hours after we arrived, it was apparent there would be no surgery. This was it. This was the end.

Walking in and seeing my Grandpa was like someone puncturing my heart. This man, who I have loved from the beginning of my life, who had held me as a child with his arms of steel, who encouraged my imagination, taught me to play cribbage, who was the very image of honor and integrity, was now an unimaginably weak, older man. He was dying.

The next few days blurred together and were filled with many tears, laughter, discussion, heartache, and ultimately joy.

When I think back on those days the memories I have are almost like snapshots of moments in time. Witnessing the first, and what would be the last, meeting of great-grandpa and new great-grandson. The soul-to-soul connection that flew across the hospital bed as their eyes locked. Holding Porter as he lay sleeping while my mom sat next to her dad and cried as she recounted to him what made him so fantastic in her eyes- those moments she lived with him that made this amazing human her dad. Recounting my own memories with him of so many joyous times spent together, the life lessons he instilled, and how very much he meant to me. He was my most revered Grandpa. The original cowboy.

I watched as nurses and a myriad of other personnel passed in and out of his room for any number of reasons, and I remember mentally yelling to them "He's not just some old man. He's my grandpa and he is AMAZING!" Being desperate for them to see who he was, not what he was.

The time finally came for me to say goodbye. We both knew this would be the last goodbye. I kissed him, told him I loved him, and that I could not express how much I would miss him. He looked right at me, said he loved me too, and to take care of my wonderful family. I walked out of that room knowing I would never again see him alive. Was I sad? Beyond words. Did I leave a piece of my heart on that hospital bed? Yes. Would I have, if possible, changed anything? No. Absolutely not. Being with him in his final days, final hours, was a tremendous blessing. An unexpected gift. Raw life. Authentic life. One final gift from the man I have cherished from the start of my life. My Grandpa.