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Wednesday, October 31
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In Pursuit of Peace
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I may have mentioned this before, but we live right in between two sisters. To our left, we have David and Diana and their children and grandchildren. To our right, we have George and Patricia and their children and Grandma. Diana and Patricia are sisters, and Grandma is their mother. Their father passed away a few years back, and Patricia took her mother in, just as I have offered a countless number of times to my own mother. We don't all get together and cookout every weekend or anything like that, but we're friendly with our neighbors and always speak when we see each other outside.
Last Christmas, we were feeling overly cheerful and decided to send some flower arrangements to both of our neighbors as a friendly holiday wish. In return, they each prepared beautiful baskets of goodies, including a delicious honey baked ham. We exchanged hugs and Christmas wishes, and went on our merry way.
We would always hear David and his buddies hanging out back at his garage; listening to classic country and tossing back beer after beer. Laid back country folk, I guess is what you could call them best. Luke would walk over from time to time, to share some hunting stories and Bud Light. We'd prefer to still be the only house on our side of the street, but seeing as how we don't own the land, why not make the best of the situation and be friendly neighbors, right? I think we've been doing a pretty good job.
I had a message on our machine Friday from Patricia, asking me to call her back at her home. I saw her car at Diana's when I had gotten home, but attempted to call her back at her house as she stated on our machine. Her daughter answered the phone, and when I asked where her mom was, she told me that she was over at Diana's house. David had passed away on Wednesday.
You can imagine my surprise, his only being 49 years young and free from any health problems, aside from his love for the twelve ounce canned cocktail. Long story short, he died from complications to a surgery that he had received a month prior; surgery to remove a tumor from his pancreas. During a visit with the doctor, they had detected the pancreatic tumor, and believed it to be cancerous. They scheduled his surgery to have it removed, and the biopsy came back benign. A few weeks passed and yet he was still losing blood from having the surgery. Wednesday they took him back to the hospital, as the bleeding had gotten more severe. After pumping him with over 120 pints of blood, they sedated him to a restful state, and he passed on only minutes later. His dying words were to Diana, when he told her not to worry, that he was going to be okay.
My hope is that he is okay, and that his family will soon start to heal. As I walked over Friday afternoon to pay my respects, I was reliving our final moments with Arty in the hospital. He too was so young, and so not ready to die. He too left behind a loving wife and children, as well as grandchildren who loved him as if he were their father. Just like David, and his two little grand babies who also called him Paw Paw. My heart broke when I saw them, and knowing that they are too young to understand, and that all they want is to have their Paw Paw come home. My heart aches for their entire family.
My wonder is if he knew that he wasn't going to make it. What does it feel like to know that you are dying? I am often haunted with the thought of Arty's last day. He was always so strong, and always denied the need to see a doctor when he wasn't feeling well. He believed he had influenza when he passed, and refused to make an appointment with his doctor. So how bad did it get for him to actually pick up the telephone and dial 911 for help? Did he know he was dying? He expressed to the paramedics that he was having trouble breathing. When he had spoken to my mom earlier that day, he told her that he was scared. Arty was never scared. For him to say that, I feel that he knew he was suffering with something far worse than influenza. If he were only having trouble breathing, I believe that he would have driven himself to the hospital, as he was too stubborn to ask anyone else for help. Until then.
He collapsed at home, and never again regained consciousness. He loved his home, and he loved everything about being there with his family. On this day he was alone. He was scared. And he was dying. I only wish that I could have been there to help him; to know that we are with him and that we love him. I pray that he could feel us with him that night, holding his hands, rubbing his head, kissing his cheeks. I hope he could hear us whispering into his ear, and begging him to please come back to us. I hope that he knows how much we love him and how we would give anything to have him back. I pray that his fears were lifted, and the he was finally at peace.
Justin still struggles with the loss of his Paw Paw. He visits with his guidance counselor at school, but feeling that he needed something more, I have made him an appointment with a psychologist tomorrow morning. Justin is anxious for his appointment. He has so much pain and so much emotion, and he simply doesn't know how to deal with it. One week he can be perfectly fine, and then, in the blink of an eye, he hates his life and says that he wishes he were dead. He hates his brother, and he wishes he was never born. We're all mean to him, and we'd be much better off if he were to run away. He's angry and he's scared. As a parent, it's frightening. It scares the hell out of me to hear him say the things that he does, and the thought of him doing something to hurt himself absolutely terrifies me. If anything were to ever happen to Justin, and knowing what I know and NOT doing something about it? I would forever blame myself. With fingers crossed that this psychologist can help my sweet man, and give me my sweet and loving son, every.single.day. |
posted by bek
10:37 AM
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I'll never forget his last day. Sean knew he was sick and made his 'first tackle for uncle arty' :( I hated not being there, but mom and dad (as uncle arty had promised to be at that game) said it would be where uncle arty would want me to be..with my boy. I miss him oh so much..think about him everyday.
Seems Justin is showing his anger from his emotions from pawpaws death..honestly I believe my dad is too.. :(
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Bek-
I too still miss stump, and think of the last time he and I talked, about 9 or so that morning. A dear freind here at work was called home after lunch today, with the word her father had suddenly passed this afternoon. Still waiting for more info, pray for her, too! sqk
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Becky-
With tears streaming down my face for your neighbors, Arty, Justin and you, I feel weird commenting beacuse we don't really know each other that well, but as a mother I feel your emotions (and I have lots of them). I feel in my soul that Arty knew you were all there and felt your presence. Hugs to Justin (and you) in your pursuit of peace. Know that you are GREAT parents and Justin will find his way with your guidance. All our best.
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I'll never forget his last day. Sean knew he was sick and made his 'first tackle for uncle arty' :( I hated not being there, but mom and dad (as uncle arty had promised to be at that game) said it would be where uncle arty would want me to be..with my boy. I miss him oh so much..think about him everyday.
Seems Justin is showing his anger from his emotions from pawpaws death..honestly I believe my dad is too.. :(