A Life Well Lived

My grandfather lived an extraordinary life. Just so you understand the type of person he was, you should know he once broke his leg as a young man, yet was still out plowing fields that same day. He never once received medical attention for the fracture and never missed a day of work. In the Navy during World War II, he received word that his wife, my grandmother, was gravely ill. His leave was denied, but he left anyway, embarking on a journey to see his bride that would rival the best Hollywood love stories. Later in life, as a chicken farmer, he ended up going bankrupt. He lost his farm and his livelihood as the unpaid creditors stacked up. But he picked himself back up, dusted himself off and began a successful career in the insurance industry. He then went and repaid every one of his former creditors, even though the bankruptcy courts absolved any and all legal obligation to do so. He did it because it was the right thing to do. That was my grandpa.

Despite these and many other stories, the event that best illustrates my grandpa’s character happened much later in life. In October of 1999, the doctors found a large aneurism on his descending aorta. Because of the size and location of the aneurism, the procedure required to fix his condition would shut down his kidneys, forcing my grandpa to be on dialysis for the remainder of his life. My grandpa was an active and productive man, even late in his later years, and being on dialysis would destroy much of his quality of life. It would have prevented him from doing many of the things that brought him joy and fulfillment, so he decided to forego the surgery.

My grandpa wanted to maintain the quality of his life, even if the quantity of his days would be cut short. To extend the length of his life at the expense of the amount of life in those days was unacceptable to him. For three and a half years, my grandfather continued to live the life he loved. On March 10^th of 2003, the aneurism started to leak and my grandpa began to bleed to death internally. For three more days, he held on to life so he could say his goodbyes to those he loved. Then, on the morning of March 13, my grandpa passed out of this life into eternity.

Beyond his original diagnosis, my grandfather was blessed with another three and a half years of full, rich life. He died the way he lived, on his terms, doing what was necessary rather than what was expected. My grandpa was more afraid of not living than he was of dying. Such is how we all ought to live.