My Ba...

That is what I call my grandfather, Ba. I was given the honor of naming him that when I was just a baby. Actually, what I used to call him was Binga Ba but dropped it as I got older. He was the man who would save me from my mothers pigtails that were so tight they would pull my eyes. He was the man who gave me $500.00 to buy my brothers car when I didn't have $5.00 to my name. He is the same man who went to a loan shark to borrow money to buy bullet proof vests for my dad and uncle when the police department wouldn't issue them. He would make sure my parents always had groceries in the house when I was little. Those are the good memories I have about Ba. There were many not so great memories about him too. Fortunately, they didn't involve me most of the time. He was the reason my grandmother and aunt moved in with us when I was 10. He spent most of his life alienating everyone in my family because of alcoholism. It was a blessing the day he outright quit. I think I was in my late teens.
I am writing about my Ba because it seems things have taken a turn for the worse. Last week they were able to extubate him but within 24 hours it became too difficult for him. They put a trach in him and since then he has gotten worse and worse. He has an infection that has caused his kidneys to begin to fail. They started dialysis tonight and they want to have a family meeting tomorrow afternoon to discuss withdrawing any further efforts. Chemotherapy is no longer an option. At this point, the options have run out.
It is so hard to watch someone leaving this world and not know where there heart is or what they are feeling or thinking. Does he have Jesus in his life? Can he hear us? Is he in pain? It is such a helpless feeling. Did you know I have only been to the hospital once since the surgery? He knew I was there. He could say my name. I told him I loved him. I think I told him goodbye in my mind because I can't bring myself to go back there and see him. I can't stand to see someone I love fade away and I'm a nurse. Is that crazy? I deal with death and dying every day. I console families. I pray with them. I know the dying process and I can't even bring myself to the hospital to see my grandfather and hold his hand and tell him all the things that I can tell a stranger in my ER.
I am writing to tell everyone about my grandfather... my Ba. Please pray for him and for my Aunt Stacy who is taking on so much lately. She has been his lifeline while dealing with so much in her own household.
Thank you to anyone who is willing to listen to me. It is so therapeutic to be able to write what is so hard to say sometimes. I feel like I have many shoulders to cry on. I love you all!