Mama always said that if you don't say what you think or feel it will come out eventually somehow. That really is so very very true. So this is going to probably be a very very long blog, just to warn you. This is a really personal memory, but I realized I should write it down somewhere, because I never have. I've never even really told anyone the whole story. But, like Mama said, it's gotta come out somewhere.
3 years ago I was in Atlanta, Georgia for the first time since I had moved ago 3 years before that, but, that's sort of getting ahead of myself. Papa was my Mom's dad and the most amazing man I have ever known.
Papa was never healthy though. He had 2 open heart surgeries in his life I think. I wasn't born for the first one, but, I do remember the second. I was in 3rd grade and a bit to young to really understand everything that was going on. I remember getting out of school and spending all day in the hospital waiting room. I don't remember exactly when Papa got cancer, but I know he had it for about 10 years. Which is a lot longer than most people live with prostate cancer without having radiation or chemo or anything like that. Now that I think about it, I don't even think he had surgery. Mom and I always hoped that his heart would get him first, cancer is a terrible way to die.
Skip ahead to my junior year March. Papa started to get worse, the cancer was catching up to him. Finally he had to go to the Veteran's Hospital in Des Moines. I remember the first time we pulled into the parking lot and seeing the big sign, "The price of freedom is visible here." I cried a lot at that point. I went and visited him every day after school for a few hours. Some days he would talk to me some days he was just out of it. Then slowly he was in and out of Intensive Care. One afternoon I went to visit and he was just so out of it. He still knew who I was, but he still thought that he was working for JC Penny. He kept telling me that I should call them and have them send someone to take him home.
One day a group of people was walking down the hall to see someone that they loved. I stood in the doorway, sort of bored and out of it and just watched them. There was a girl about my age with them. She got to the doorway and just lost all sense of control, I don't know that I had ever really heard anyone truly weep until then. She couldn't even go in the door of the hospital room. They tried calming her down and encouraging her to wait a while and then go in, but nothing worked, eventually they just had to lead her down the hall.
A few weeks passed and Papa wasn't getting any better, they tried sending him home a few times, but, he always just had to go back to the hospital. Eventually they knew it was the end, so he had to go to hospice. I remember my Mom calling me at school and just trying to make it all seem really positive, she described how nice the place was, she left out the part that it's where people go to die.
I remember getting there for the first time and I really did think it was nice. It was more homey there was carpet and furniture in all the rooms and it wasn't stupid fluorescent lights, the rooms had nice windows. They didn't know how long he would be in hospice, they told us it could be days or weeks. Those nurses amazed me, just how much they knew about death. I still sometimes sit and think about how much more they do know that they didn't share.
Obviously the inevitable became closer, it was only a few days. Papa was doing really bad, he was no longer ever awake and if he was he would talk to people in the room that weren't there or call out to his Aunt Bobo who took care of him as a child. The nurses explained to us that he could be holding on for something. That oftentimes people that are close to death will hold on for a loved one to arrive or for a special birthday or something like that. So we brought in tapes from his 50th anniversary party where his sisters and the cousins and everyone came up for the celebration hoping that their voices would comfort him and help him let go. That didn't work, he was still holding on.
The last day he was alive we tried something else. The nurses had us each go to him alone and sit on his bed and tell him our own reasons for why it was ok for him to die. I really really didn't want to it took a lot of encouragement from my Mom to get me to do it. I sat down amongst all of the cords and tubes going in and out of him and held his hand and told him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. Then came the hardest part, I had to sit and tell Papa that it was ok for him to leave me forever that we would all be ok with him, even though to me, it wasn't. I didn't want him to leave me, it wasn't ok.
None of us wanted to leave that night. It was like we all knew he would be gone that night, the nurses encouraged us to go home, but to always make sure we told him who was coming and going. He was the one that would choose when to go and whoever was meant to be there, would be there. Gramma stayed though, they had special couches for people to sleep if they wanted to stay.
When we got home, Mom and I slept together in what is now Elizabeth's room, but, used to be a guest room, because I didn't want to be by myself. A hour or so after we fell asleep the phone rang, I remember sort of half waking up and then hearing my Mom sobbing and just saying over and over, "I can't believe he's gone." I didn't realize that she had gotten the phone call and tried to comfort her saying that she was just dreaming and that we would be able to see him tomorrow, but then I saw the phone in her hand and realized that it wasn't a dream, that Papa really was gone.
Daddy and Mom left to go get Gramma from hospice and Mom was able to say goodbye to Papa while he was still warm. They brought Gramma over to my house and she slept in our other guest room for the night so she didn't have to go home alone.
I couldn't sleep at all. Eventually I just went down to the basement and grabbed all of the home videos I could find and watched anything I could find with Papa in it. I didn't want to remember him as the weak and sick man in the hospital bed, I wanted to remember him as the man who made Easter egg scavenger hunts for my sister and I, the man who would take me fishing, the man who always had a new scheme up his sleeve. I finally fell asleep around 6 that morning, my parents didn't make me go to school, but I told them I wanted to get my homework, since we would be flying to Atlanta for the next 3 days, in reality I just needed to see my friends.
I walked into the doors and the first person I saw was Isaiah. I literally collapsed into his arms in sobs and explained what was going on. I will always love him for the way he comforts me, he's amazing. I slowly went from class to class to talk to my teachers, then I went to Dr. Quick's room. Brittany, Alivia and Tori were all in there, I saw those 3 and just started crying again. Having the 3 of them surround me in hugs and then Dr. Quick stop class, come over and just started praying for me. It was amazing, that man never should have been fired.
I ran into Melissa along the way of collecting assignments too, I love that girl too, she helped me carry everything and stood in the parking lot with me while I waited for my Dad to come back to get me. She was such a comfort and I love her so much for it.
We flew out for Atlanta the next day.
The funeral was all a blur, meeting lots of people that were his friends that I had met once...when I was a baby or just very young.
The neat thing about seeing my family again was seeing baby Josie and just holding her. I remember Gramma saying, "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away." Her strength and resolve and view on how life is always beginning and ending really inspired me.
I miss him so much.
Some days are more than others, some days too much to bear.
But, I know he would be proud of me if he were alive.
Love,
Catherine
Current iTunes Track
Happy Ending by Mika
This is the hardest story that I've ever told No hope, or love, or glory Happy endings gone forever more I feel as if I feel as if I'm wastin' And I'm wastin' everyday This is the way you left me, I'm not pretending. No hope, no love, no glory, No Happy Ending. This is the way that we love, Like it's forever. Then live the rest of our life, But not together.
I survived my first 2 finals, 4 more to go. I am really not too worried, I feel like I tried hard this semester, worked on the whole going to class thing and studied. That's all you can really do. Geology was a piece of cake and I'll be mad if I get less than a B on my theater final. The only ones left to really worry about is Psych and Communication Studies. But, honestly I think after living through last semesters finals, I'm much less stressed, even though I do have more tests that I have to take. It's nice.
