The C Word
My Grandpa died of Cancer. Lung to be exact. (My Dad believed the radiation fried his lungs. Always claimed "those damn doctors killed him.".) My Grandpa reminded me of Popeye, he was a handsome man with huge muscles in his arms. When I think of him I remember him in t-shirts, Levis and caps and he had the most gorgeous blue eyes. I don't have very many memories of him, but I can still remember the funeral like it was yesterday. We were sitting in the front row and there was a flag on his casket. The men in uniform folded it up for my Grandma, which at that time i thought it was a strange gesture, why would she want a flag? Her Husband just died.My Aunts and Uncles were all sobbing and I was maybe 10 so I couldn't fully grasp why they were so sad. I knew it was a sad moment, but I couldn't begin to comprehend the heartbreak that was happening to each of them. The funeral ended and it was the last my Father spoke of it around us kids. From that point on Cancer was known as the C word. Don't say it out loud or someone we love could catch it. I honestly believed that. I was Ten.
Today marks a year that the C word took my Father. 2 Years to the Day that we found out he had a mass in his esophagus. I watched and documented the last year of his life. He asked me to. "Take alot of pictures Nellie." And I did. Pictures I will cherish and Pictures my children will cherish. Now looking back on this moment I realize that he knew he wasn't going to make it long. He was putting on a brave face because I was standing there with my optimism and cheerleader spirit. I knew his diagnosis was bad, (Stage 4 Esophageal Carcinoma) but never strong enough to beat my Dad. I honestly believed that with 100% of my heart.
His C-word was clever. He battled it and destroyed some of it with healthy eating and his first round of chemo. Then it adapted and the chemo stopped working, so the Doctors switched the kind of chemo and the C-world laughed. He went for clinical trials but at that time it was getting difficult for him to move and stay awake. He just wanted to sleep. His body was tired and the C-word was eating him from the inside. I went over one day and he was sleeping and i could see this bulge in his chest. It was the Cancer, It was taking over and I knew it wasn't going to leave until it took my Father with him. It was a horrible Monster that was consuming one of my Favorite humans. I hated it. I wanted to reach in his chest and take it out. I pushed him to sit outside with me. "Get up DAD" sunshine is good for you. He was exhausted and he got up anyway because I was his daughter, and to me he was the strongest person I knew and he could never let me down. He fell outside because he was so weak. It was the first time in my life I have ever seen him frail. I took him back inside and he instantly fell asleep. I was so sad. It consumed me and i cried at the edge of his bed holding his hand. We called in Hospice.
Hospice came and told us he had a few weeks. I called the Family. Everyone came and said their goodbyes. In and out of the house for 2 weeks. My Father was awake for some of it and in our moments alone he would tell me he was dying. I said yes Dad. He said please don't be sad and I told him I won't. As I write this I see his face. His puppy dog eyes, the worry for me and my brothers and sister was visible in his face. He was worrying about Us and he was the one dying. I told him I would be Ok and you could tell he knew i wouldn't be. He had just lost his Mother a month earlier. He knew the horrific pain me and my brothers and sister were about to experience. He died on October 4th 2016. Almost exactly a year after his diagnosis.
I got the call at 7am and my phone was on silent. Jim and my Aunt called me. It wasn't until I heard my Dads voice say "Jeanil answer your damn phone." that i went and looked and there were over 10 missed calls and i knew. I rushed over. No one Prepares you for the pain to come. Those who have lost a loved one know it all too well. I walked in the room and nothing. Just silence. Jay, Jim and my Aunt Cindy were crying. It was all muffled noise to me at that point. My brothers Letterman Jacket lay on his chest. I moved closer. In a split second I realized I was never going to hear him Laugh or see his eyes, I was never going to hear his voice whether it was yelling or talking. In a split second I realized my kids just lost their Pop Pop. My mentor, My best friend, the one person who loved me unconditionally was gone. I fell on his chest and sobbed for over a hour. People came in and out of the room. and cried with me and held my hand. I had Never felt my heart break. Finally Jim(my dads best friend) came in and told me the mortuary was here. I finally peeled myself off his chest. One of the worst parts for me was the mortuary taking him out. I had to give permission to cover his face. I had to give the OK to load him up in the car. I stood there on the porch and watched as they loaded my Favorite person away like groceries, under this horrible maroon piece of fabric that I would see every time I closed my eyes for the next year. I couldn't even tell you where anyone else was. I still don't understand how I stood there. My feet were cemented to the ground. And then the car pulled away. And that was it.
I sit and write this today because there are little things that people never tell you when someone you love is dying. One of my close friends lost her mother and she told me to study the little things. like their hands, She was right and I did. I wasn't very emotional with my father and I wish I would've hugged him more. I envied my little sisters relationship with him. They were so loving. It was beautiful and now I long for it. So hug your loved ones. Tell them you love them, often. Be there and show up for things that even you may not think are important. And the final thing is that it doesn't get easier. The crying lessens, but the memories start to get blurry which makes me really sad again. Another thing is you are going to be really really sad. That is the end to this Blog series. Meet me at the Game friends.
