Memories live on

February 12th.      If you had asked me a few years ago if that date meant anything I would have said no.  Sure, it’s two days before Valentine’s Day.  And it’s 4 days before my son’s birthday.  But other than that it never held any real significance for me.  That is until February 12, 2007.

 

February 12, 2007 at 5:15 p.m. will forever be a day and time that will live in my memory.  That was the day that I came face to face with the reality of losing my best friend, my "Dad" (even though biologically he wasn’t he raised me as if I were).  It was a day I knew was coming for quite some time.  Actually I knew that day would come for almost 3 years.  A day that the Drs kept telling us would come no more than 6 months from the date of diagnosis.  Well, even Drs are wrong sometimes.  Thankfully.

Sure there are dates and times in a person’s life that are like that.  Ones that no matter how much time passes will forever sneak back in and make you stop your day to think about whatever happened at that moment.  The good ones are the best memories to have like that.  The bad ones have their purpose too I guess.

I’m not sure I will ever understand cancer and why it does what it does.  I’m not sure anyone will.  But it does amaze me that a person can have that evil disease growing and doing it’s thing inside of a person’s body for such a long time and it seems like it doesn’t exist.  Then one day something makes a person think there might be something different, which prompts a trip to the Dr and then the ever dreaded "you have cancer" declaration from a Dr who gives it to you as if they are ordering their lunch.  And then the waiting game begins.  When you hit that milestone that the Dr said you shouldn’t be alive past you gain hope.  You gain confidence that maybe they were wrong, maybe things can turn out differently.  The more time that passes the more you try to push that ‘death sentence’ to the back of your mind and continue on.  Then comes a day when suddenly everything in your life screeches to a halt when the call comes that they aren’t doing well at all.

For me that call came on a Saturday morning, February 10th.  My Mom had been to M’s house the day before and he wasn’t feeling well, but he didn’t want to go to the hospital to get checked.  She ran some errands early Saturday and got a call from him to come right away, he wasn’t feeling well.  She hurried over to him as fast as she could, calling me on the way to let me know what was going on.  When she arrived she could tell that in a matter of a few hours since she last saw him he had deteriorated.  He finally said he might want to go to the hospital to get checked.  So she called me to let me know.  Then called his Hospice nurse to let her know.  Shortly after she arrived and did his vitals and agreed he should go in.  I talked to her on the phone to get her take on the situation since she was standing right in front of him and I was 2 hours away.  She told me all that she knew and what she thought should happen at that point.  She asked my opinion (I was his legally appointed medical personal rep).  I told her if he was still able to competently make medical decisions on his own they were to listen to him and anything he wanted to do I would support.  But in my opinion I wanted him to go in and at the very least get checked.  So an ambulance was called and he was on his way.  And so were my family and I to get there ASAP.

When we arrived I met with his Dr and the nurses that were taking care of him to find out what was going on.  The prognosis was bleak.  They had him resting comfortably and that was all they could do.  He refused any heroic measures so all they could do was provide oxygen and pain meds to keep him comfortable.

My family and I stayed late that night with him before heading home for the night to try and get some rest.  That was much easier said that done.  Morning came and I got a call from the hospital that he was still holding his own but was asking for me.  So I hurried back to the hospital to spend the day with him.  When it came time for us to head home that night he asked that my Mom and I not go.  He said he didn’t think he would make it through the night and he didn’t want ot be alone.  So I sent my DH and the kids home alone and Mom and I settled in for the night.  The nurses brought in a cot, but there was no sleeping to be done that night.  Instead we all sat up and watched TV that night together.  Talked when he was awake, got the important things said that you always wish you had the chance to say to someone you love but something that few get the actual chance to do. 

A few times throughout the night we had some tense moments that made us rush to his side to make sure everything was ok.  I think that was the longest night of my life.  When morning came he was still with us.  But he had most definitely gone downhill from when I first saw him the day he arrived in the hospital.  At that point I was pulled aside by his Drs and told that since there was nothing more they could do for him they would stabilize him and the best thing would be for me to find a placement for him.  So I talked with the hospital social workers and started the process of trying to find a hospice unit somewhere that could get him in that day because they were discharging him as soon as one was found.  I found one, went and checked it out and decided it was the best place to put him.  I wish I could have taken him home but that was not the option.  I remember standing in that hospice room, what was to be his room, and just crying.  Thinking this is the room he will live out his last remaining days in.  It suddenly became so real to me.

I went back to the hospital to break the news to him of where he was going.  He asked if he could go home and I had to tell him that it wasn’t possible.  He accepted where he was going, which was a relief to me.  It was going to take some time for the paperwork to get all taken care of and all of the arrangments to be made for the transfer, so we sat and waited.

While we waited his breathing became more labored.  I talked to his nurse and she said there was a medicine they could give him that would make it easier for him to breathe so he wouldn’t struggle so much.  But when I asked I was told that it would most definitely make it more easy for him to slip away faster.  So I talked to him, he said he didn’t want it.  But we kept the option open in case he changed his mind.  For hours we all sat in silence as he labored to breathe.  He would wake, look to make sure I was still there, ask for a sip of cold water, and then fall back asleep.  Eventually he made the decision that he would take the medicine so he could get some rest.  When there didn’t seem to be any change everyone else left to go get dinner.  My Mom and I and her friend stayed behind so he wouldn’t be alone.  Just before 5 Mom told me to go home and see the kids and take a break since I’d been there for two days straight without

leaving the hospital.  I didn’t want to go but finally decided maybe I would, just for a few minutes and come right back.

I got my coat on and went to his bedside to talk to him and tell him that I was leaving to go check on his boys but I would be right back.  He didn’t open his eyes really, but he reached up for my hand.  I stood there holding his hand, talking to him, reassuring him I would be right back.  My Mom and her friend stood at the foot of his bed.  The TV was on in the background.  And as I stood there holding his hand all of a sudden something was different.  His breathing was a little different, I don’t think anyone noticed it but me.  I looked at him and watched as he took took one big sigh, squeezed my hand and that was it.  His chest no longer rose and fell, his grip started to slip from my hand, suddenly he was at peace.  I looked at the clock and saw it said 5:15 p.m.  My Mom and her friend were still talking at the foot of his bed when I said "I think he just took his last breath".  They both went "WHAT?!?!?"  and each took ahold of one of his feet.  They looked at him and said "no, he can’t be gone"  but he was.  For me it was like time stood still. All of the sounds of the hospital disappeared into the background and became almost mute.  The TV that once seemed to blare in the quietness of the room suddenly seemed as if there were mimes on the TV.  I laid his hand down and walked out of the room very calmly.

I walked down the hallway to the nurses desk.  One of the other patients, who liked to play cards with the nurses to pass the time, was standing there just finishing up a game.  So I stood there quietly waiting my turn.  When the desk nurse asked if she could help me with anything I asked her where the nurse for Room 810 was.  She checked to see who it was and then said she was in another room with another patient and wondered if she could help me.  I told her that M had just passed away.  Suddenly all fo the nurses at that station flew into action.  Everyone seemed to move in a different direction.  The head nurse grabbed up the phone and paged for his nurse to come ASAP, I told her not to hurry he was already gone.   She got ahold of his nurse and told her to head to his room and then told me she would meet me there so to head back.  On the way back to his room his nurse came down the hall and asked me what happened.  I told her he took a big sigh and that was it, he was gone.  She and another nurse hurried into the room and did their checks to see if there was a pulse, heartbeat or any respirations.  But there weren’t.  She asked if I knew when it happened and I said "yes, it was 5:15".  So she wrote that down on her clipboard as the time of death.

The one nurse apologized to us for our loss and left the room to go help other patients.  The nurse who had been caring for him th emost stayed behind and started turning off the machines, disconnecting things, shutting off the oxygen, removing his cannulas from his nose and prepping him for other family members who may be coming.  She told me to go ahead and remove his glasses and watch.  I removed his glasses but when I reached for his watch I couldn’t do it.  So I asked her to do me a favor and remove it for me, which she did without hesitation saying she completely understood. 

I started making calls ot his sister and brother to let them know he was gone.  Called my DH and told him and told him to please just keep the kids at home, we would be back soon.  We sat there in silence, shedding tears, and just looking at him laying there at peace. His family arrived and sat for a while as well.  The Palliative Care person came to get some vital information and contact info.  The Priest came in and said a prayer and expressed his deepest sympathies to us.  They told us to take all of the time we needed.

For over 2 hours we sat there.  Not wanting to stay, but yet not wanting to leave.  Finally it just seemed like the right time.  We all got ready to leave.  His family walked out of the room first.  My Mom and I went and stood at his bedside for the last time, in silence just rmeembering him and soaking the image of him in.  With tears in our eyes we each said our good byes to him and kissed his forehead.  I was the last to leave.  Every step I took towards the door seemed to be leaden.  I stopped and kept looking back at him laying there in that bed.  Hoping to see one last smile, one last wave, one last "Hey Turkey there you are!"  or "Hi Mouse" uttered from his lips.  But silence just filled the room beyond capacity.  I finally reached the door, stood there taking one last look before quietly shutting it behind me as if not to wake him from a nap. 

The hallway was like the one in the Green Mile.  It seemed as if it went on forever.  At the very far end we could see that the funeral home had already arrived to start doing their job, but they remained at a respectful distance patiently waiting until we were clearly all gone.  The nurses at the station uttered their condolences to all of us as we waited for the elevator to arrive and cast that sad glance our way that we would soon come to know all to well in the next few days.

We stepped onto th elevator, the doors thunked shut and that was it.  Everyone else had gone on ahead.  My Mom and I were the last to head towards the doors to the outside.  I got near the doors and suddenly I couldn’t go on.  I couldn’t bear to leave him there all alone.  Becuase I knew that if I stepped out those doors into the cold night air that my life would never be the same again.  My Mom urged me outside eventually.  As we drove away from the hospital I saw the window to his room.  The lights were still on and someone had partially closed the curtains.  I assumed by then the funeral home was in there getting ready to take him with them.

That night we stayed up late, talking, reminiscing, remembering.  We were exhausted but for some reason couldn’t get to sleep anyway.  I had to meet with his sister and aunt the next morning to go to the funeral home where I picked out all the necessary things and made the arrangements for the funeral.  Still didn’t seem real as I sat there in that funeral director’s conference room looking over images for the memory brochures they would print up, and picking out a verse for the wake.  It seemed a little more real when we went into the casket room to select where he would eternally lay.  I found the perfect casket for him, it was like it was made just for him.  His favorite color was brown and he was a deer hunter all his life, he loved to watch the deer and turkey roam around his yard too.  And I looked and looked and wasn’t finding much of anything.  Then suddenly I turned around and there it sat.  It was a beautiful coppery brown with a cream silk lining.  And on the roof of it there were deer embroidered into the silk and a woodsy scence.  It was like looking at a scene from his windows at his house.

  I knew right then it was to be his.

The rest of the week continued on as normal as possible.  The visitation/wake was set for Friday, February 16th.  My son’s 3rd birthday.  So instead of cake and balloons on his birthday he spent it at the funeral home.  Not exactly the type of things memories are made of.

We were asked to arrive an hour before it started to make sure everything looked ok, that he looked like he should, etc.  We walked into the funeral home and his family was already there.  I walked around the corner into the viewing room and suddenly it was like I hit a brick wall.  I caught a glimpse of him at the head of the room laying in the casket I had chosen for him.  The room had all these beautiful flowers in it.  And I caught a glimpse of him in the casket all dressed up.  And I could not make myself walk to the front of that room to view him.  I tried, God knows I tried, but I just couldn’t.  The rest of my family went up, but I couldn’t.  For the next three hours and people flowed in and out of the room, yet I couldn’t walk up there.

Finally the end of the night came and people were all done coming.  The family was packing up and leaving.  We started getting ready to leave too.  Everyone went up one last time to stand quietly by his side, tears streaming down their faces before leaving the buildiing.  It was then that I realized it was now or never if I was going to do this.  As the funeral director and my DH and Mom stood watching I slowly made my way to the front.  Wtih every step that took me closer I started to cry harder.  By the time I reached his side tears could not be stopped.  He looked soooo much like he did before he got sick.  He was wearing the suit he had bought for my wedding and honestly, he looked jsut as he did the day he stood beside me on my wedding day.  I said my silent good byes to him, touched his hand lightly and then left.  I thanked the funeral director on my way out for making him look like he always had when I was growing up.

The next morning was the funeral.  Less than a year before he died he asked me to help him get baptized.  he had always like the minister from my church and asked if I could help him arrange it with him.  And I did.  And I was even lucky enough to be there at his house the day that he got baptized and witnessed the whole thing.  It was just amazing to be just the two of us along with my son and the minister there for that special moment.  So that is where I arranged for his funeral service to take place and the minister he liked so much agreed to be the officiant too.  I chose all of the music that was to be played and sang during the service, I chose the bible verses that were to be read.  It was the proper send off to someone who had meant so much to me.

When the time approached for us to start the procession the funeral director approached me to make sure all of the things that were to be with him were in the casket with him and if we wanted his glasses, etc.  And then I stood there next to the casket as the funeral director lowered him dwon farther into it and started the process of closing it up.  I watched until that lid closed down and sealed for the last time.  And suddenly I was at peace.  It was like a peaceful feeling just washed over my entire body and I just felt aht everything would be ok.  I cried as I walked in behind the casket.  I sang the hymns.  And I smiled at the memories that the minister was sharing with all of us with his experiences with M and the things I had shared with him during the planning of the funeral.

I had been asked if there would be anyone that would say a eulogy during the service.  At the time I said Ididn’t think there would be.  I couldn’t see any of the people I knew would be there to be able to stand up and say anything.  But then I got thinking between the day I met with the minister and the day of the funeral that something should be said to honor him, to share memories of him, to somehow let others know what a difference he made in this lifetime.  So DH and I drove the 2 hours each way back to our house to get something that I had written for him a few months before he passed, knowing the day was coming.  So  on the day of the funeral I delivered it to the minister’s desk and asked that it be read during the service.  He came up to me just before the services and asked if I had written that, I told him I had.  He said he thought it was absolutely a fitting homage to M and would be honored to read it during the service if I didn’t feel i could.  So I had him read it, I knew I would never be able to get through it without totally breaking down.  And this is what I had written for him, it was entitled "My One True Friend:

 

 

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My One “True” Friend

 

 

My friend, my one “true” friend

It’s so sad to see you nearing the end,

Little by little, I’m watching you fade away.

Such mixed emotions I have of that day.

The day you no longer suffer or fight for a breath.

The day I’ll remember as the day that you left.

Left the confusion, the suffering and the struggle behind.

I think of the joy, the love and the peace that you’ll find.

I’ll be happy for you, though my heart will ache.

It won’t be all here, for part of if you’ll take.

Take with you to that glorious place.

Where, at last, you will see God’s face.

Where the angels are there, waiting for you.

You’ll be happy and free and healthy again, too.

Oh, how I&rsq

uo;ll miss you each passing day.

But, because I love you, I can’t ask you to stay.

I know you’ll be with me, wherever I go.

For all of my days, this I do know.

So, you see, my one “true” friend.

There actually is no real end.

Until we meet again……….

 

 

~~By:  Cathy T****~~

            ~~2006~~

 

 

Award winning?  Nope.  But it was meant for him and that’s all that mattered.

 

When he passed J was 3 weeks old.  I did get one picture of him holding him, which means alot to me.  K was just about to turn 3 years old. 

 

February 12th was the day that changed the life I had known growing up.  February 13th was the day that changed how my life would be for the next 18 months plus as I dealt with his family and all of the crap they pulled on me.  But here I am, two years later.  Two years that seem like it’s been 20.  But the estate is all buttoned up and DONE with.  Thank God!  Memories still fill my days.  The sadness has started to ebb away slowly.  My son still talks about his Grandpa and how he was sick, but now he’s not anymore.  We do what we can to keep his memories alive and to create for J memories of someone who loved him so much but never had the chance to watch him grow.  It’s been a short two years, yet a long two years.  But life is going on, one step at a time.

 

One last memory that I want to share before ending what has become a novel.  M and I had a chance to talk, just the two of us, in the hospital.  To share all of those things that are important to say but rarely get said.  We talked about the boys.  They were his pride and joy, his boys, his grandsons.  He called K his ‘red fox’ becuase of the color of his hair and his "goober" because of his silliness.  He asked if we would ever have any more kids.  I said I’d like one more to see if we would ever get that girl everyone had always wanted.  But I told him that we were likely only going to have the two boys and call it done.  He said "no, you’ll have one more.  You’ll finally get that girl".  I just laughed and said "you think so huh?"  But he said "promise me you’ll never name her Katherine becuase you don’t want to give her a name that will make her bitchy later"  See, the sister of his that caused so many problems is named that.  lol  I found it funny that no matter what he was going through it mattered enough to him to make sure I didn’t make that mistake if I was ever given that chance.  So I shared with him what we would name a girl if we ever had one.  He seemed to like that.  And even wondered if we would ever consider using his Mother’s middle name if we couldn’t think of anything else.  I told him I liked it but we’d see.  I was pretty certain we would never have a 3rd child at that point so I wasn’t going to commit to something.  But here we are, two years later and I am expecting that #3!  Let’s just hope that his predictions were right and this little sweet pea is actually a girl.  I guess a few more months and we’ll be able to see if he had some insight into that or not. 

 

But that is all.  That was my walk down memory lane for today.  I am off to cuddle my little man who never got a chance to know his "grandpa" and be thankful for all of the years that I had him in my life.