Finding grandpa dead

15 years ago, I was in my early 20's and my folks went to Vegas for their first vacation in 25 years. My gram - my mom's mom - calls in the middle of the night: "Chris, your grandfather fell in his room and I heard glass shatter and he's not answering....". She's incredibly arthritic and can't really get up quickly and my grandfather had been having heart problems for years.

So you know what I'm dreading.

I drive/fly the 5 minutes to their house, let myself in, start walking upstairs and yell to my gram in her room. She says "He's not saying anything.... Hank..... HANKKKKK.......".

Nothing. So I go to his room and remember that there's no ceiling fixture. The only light in the room is on his bedstand, and I'm willing to bet that it's what she heard shatter.

So no light. I also realize that I ran out of the house with no shoes - it being July and an emergency and whatnot. Ungood.

I go into his room as far as the hallway light will penetrate - not far, and I'm shuffling. Number one, so I don't step on glass, and number two, to find him. I'm kind of feeling with my feet and calling "Pop......... Pop........" Nuthin. I'm absolutely dreading my first contact with him. I know he's passed.

5 feet further on, my foot bumps his. It's cold. I push hard on it with no response, either to the pressure or my calling his name.

Shit. He's dead. This sucks. My mom is going to have to cut her trip short, I'm going to have to deal with all of this. My dad owns a funeral home and I was covering for the week. Double shit.

I slide a little further and find broken glass and it's not a lamp. There's water... it was a drinking glass. Good. It's 5am, dark, at least I can get a light on and figure out what to do next.

Now, through all of this (probably no more than 2 minutes, but it felt like an hour), my gram is yelling "Is he dead?". "Can you hear me??!!?!? Is he DEAD?"

Oh fer Chris'sakes, gimme a break. what does she want me to say? It just seemed wrong to break the news by screaming back "YEAH! STONE DEAD. You want wood or metal?"

Anyway.

I'm working my way along his body, feeling with my toes, going along the narrow passway between the bed and the wall, made more narrow by his body. I'm trying not to kick him, touching ym dead grandfather with my bare foot was skeeving me out. But I also don't want to fall over his arm.... or step in urine.... . You get the point.

Now I'm standing astride his body. I can tell he's on his back, so my left foot is next to his right arm and my right foot between his left arm and his torso.

I lean over him and I'm tearing up. I had really loved the guy and here I am standing over his corpse trying to find a light, hoping he didn't bash his head. If he's a bloody mess, I might just lose it.

I reach for the light, stretching over him, and in a voice as calm as can be he says, "Jesus Christ bud, what are you doing here?"

I SCREAMED. Not just a little. He had a spell and whacked his head and must have knocked himself out cold when he hit the table.

Meanwhile, I couldn't even help him up. I'm startled, scared, processing, and I suddenly have to pee worse than I've ever had to pee.

I think I lost 3 years of my own life on that one.