At Peace

My Papa passed away today. Writing those words seems wrong. In a way, I'm lucky. I'm now twenty-two (as of 2 days ago) and I've never had anyone in my family or anyone I cared about die, until now. I got to know my Papa for a whole twenty-two years. I was there to listen to every dirty joke he told and witness him flirting with waitresses and making rude gestures at my grandmother (in a loving way I'm sure). He was a fighter but his body, specifically his lungs, just couldn't hold out on him.

He had been in the hospital for three weeks toughing it out and staying with us, even though for two of those weeks he had a tube shoved down his throat breathing for him. I mustered up the courage to go see him when he first went into the hospital. I was scared at the time because I thought that if something did happen, I didn't want my last memory of him to be him weak and fragile laying there in a hospital bed with all those wires and tubes attached to him. I worried it would spoil the memory of him, but it hasn't. Because - even when I did go up to visit, and see him in such a frail state - he was alert and he was still himself. He winked at us and tried to laugh with us (the best he could with the intubation tube in). He flirted with the nurses and tried to con them into giving him ice-cream. So when I think of him, as I have a lot today, I don't think of him sitting in his bed sickly. I think of him as a fighter and recognize that he passed that down to all of us. I think of him as the man who used to pick me up so I could pick the cherries off of his fruit trees that he was oh-so-proud of. Or the man who would let me come with him to Maclemore's out in Lavinia and got me 12 oz. Mountain Dew and a Kit Kat. The man who used to empty his change jar for me just so I could pick something sweet to eat when Granny ran to the gas station to get cigarettes. He also tried to teach me how to drive when I was 15...the last summer I was able to spend with my grandparents before I started working. I remember I was so excited when I was old enough to start playing cards with the adults when we went up there to visit. We would stay up til one or two o'clock in the morning playing five-card-draw and and texas hold 'em. What I wouldn't give for one last game of poker with my Papa.

The tears having been coming in spurts today. Sometimes I think I'm strong enough to handle this, and other times they slip through. Mostly, when I remember. Knowing that he isn't with us anymore makes me sad, but it isn't the thing that makes me cry. It is remembering his spirit and how much he liked to joke around. I cry for my family too - for all four of his daughters, who he was tough on but loved them. I cry for my grandmother and worry about what she will do now.

It feels wrong to continue on with our normal lives when something like this happens. I had to goto my pre-calculus class tonight and sit through a lecture, trying my damnedest not to think about it. I have to go back to work tomorrow and deal with it. And the day after that and the day after that. And, Momma says the funeral won't be until next weekend, but my manager leaves for conference on Friday so I'm going to have a very hard time trying to switch shifts and make it up there. But, I won't miss it. I won't miss the service honoring what a strong and courageous and spirited man he was.

My cousin (who I've only met once in my entire life) on Facebook posted "Rest in peace papa I didn't get to see you much and I wish I could have changed that." Seeing someone actually acknowledge it is hard and the fact that she did upsets me. I'm not ready to tell people, especially on social media. Kyle told his dad who in turn told his wife who texted me about it, and I got irritated. I don't want people to bother me about this right now. I don't want people to say that they're sorry or tell me if there is anything they can do let them know. I'm not ready to talk about it and there is definitely not anything they can do to help. I'm numb right now and I feel as if I have a permanent lump in my throat and my chest. I don't want the topic brought up by anyone, even Kyle. When it happened, I told him what he needed to know, but I definitely did not want to dwell on the subject.

I wish I could put life on hold and push pause on all my responsibilities, but work, school, and the wedding planning still has to be done. It seems selfish continuing to worry about wedding details, but we are six weeks away from exchanging vows. We will get married 2 days after Papa's birthday and it is going to be hard knowing that he won't have the opportunity to meet Kyle more than he has or see the pictures from my wedding. I was going to be the first grandchild he was close to to get married... I knew he wasn't going to be there because it is hard for him to travel, but it never crossed my mind that he wouldn't get to see me afterwards.

On my way home from class today, the world seemed peaceful for a moment and that is how I want to remember it. It was quiet and the sun rays shown through the clouds as it set. That is the only thing that I want to remember about today. Momma says that at least he was moved to another room before he passed. He had a better view of the trees and wasn't hooked up to as many machines. I'm glad that he is no longer having to fight with his body. I just hope that his soul is at peace wherever he ended up, in whatever afterlife he believed in.