Goodbye, Papa

Explaining death to a 4-year old can be a little bit tough.

Earlier this week, my dad's father, who we have always called Papa, was referred to Hospice services. Because of my background as a social worker for older adults, I knew that such a referral could still mean he had up to six months to live. So at first, I wasn't overly worried or upset. He was always such a tough man, and has overcome so many illnesses and setbacks, that surely it would happen again this time.
Surely.
He was admitted to the hospital later, given morphine, spending his days and nights sedated and unaware of people's presence in his room. The doctor told my family that he guessed Papa had approximately 2-5 days to live. Yesterday morning, he said 24-48 hours.

This morning, my mom called and said, "He's gone." She was in the room with him while he passed away and told me he went very peacefully. His eyes and mouth closed, and his labored breathing, loud with the sound of fluid in his lungs, simply stopped.
She said it looked like he had a small smile on his lips.

I have been somewhat of an emotional mess. I can't seem to help but cry at the thought or mention of him, and just talking about him is sure to bring about more tears.

As I lay in my bed yesterday, sobbing, Jacob came in my room and climbed in right beside me. He slid up against me and put his arm around me.
He held me and said, "Stop crying, Mommy. Be happy."
He really doesn't like it when I cry.
Me: "Mommy's sad right now, sweetie. It's OK to be sad sometimes."

Jacob: "But why are you sad?"

Me: "Do you remember Nana (Jacob's name for my Grandma) & Papa? That's Pop Pop's mommy and daddy."

Jacob: "Yes."

Me: "Well, Papa is very sick. He's in the hospital. And tomorrow or the next day, he's going to leave and go live with Jesus in Heaven. I'm sad because I'm going to miss him very, very much."

Jacob: "But why is him goin' there?"

Me: "Well, when people get really old, that's where they go."

Jacob: "Where is Jesus?"

Me: "He's up really high in the sky, remember? Up in Heaven."

Jacob: "But how is him gonna get up there with Jesus?"

Me: "An angel will take him."

Jacob: (with a small smile) "Oh. Cuz dem have wings."

Me: "That's right."

Jacob: (pondering a moment) "Do the wings hurt their back?"

Me: "I don't think so, buddy."

Jacob: "I don't want wings on my back."

Me: "I don't want wings either."

And he continues to snuggle up against me, lightly stroking my hair as he likes to do when he's falling asleep at bedtime. It was so comforting, that for a moment, I felt like our roles had been reversed.

Me: "Thank you for making Mommy feel a little better."

Jacob: "You're welcome."

Me: "I love you."

Jacob: "I love you too."

And once my little ray of sunshine was off and running to the playroom, I sunk back into my feelings of sadness.


My head knows that Papa lived a long, happy life. He would have turned 92 years old on July 11th.

My head knows he was feeling miserable, and had little quality of life. He used to thrive on his ability to walk and exercise well into his eighties, and was proud of himself for being in such good shape, both mentally and physically.
Recently, he was only able to walk short distances with a walker. And not easily.

My head also knows he was ready to go.

But I've always been the kind of person who tends to follow her heart. And all my heart knows is how much I'll miss him.
How strange it will be to mail pictures or a letter, and address it to just Grandma instead of Grandma and Papa.

How hard it will be to see Grandma without Papa.

How difficult it is to even think about not seeing him.

That I'll never hear his laugh. His jokes. Or the stories he loved to tell.

And while I'm grateful he was alive to meet and spend time with the boys, and feel honored that Alex was named after him (John Alexander), I hate that they won't know him better. And that they won't remember him except through pictures or stories I tell them.


Grandma and Papa dancing at my wedding in October 2002.


The men in our family on Mother's Day 2005.


Papa first met Jacob when he was 3 months & 1 week old.


When I was a little girl, my favorite stuffed animal was Curious George. Papa used to love to tell the story of when I was visiting, and he took me & George on a wagon ride throughout their neighborhood. As we neared the house, he said I was crying because I had unknowingly dropped Curious George along the way. And he would tell me that he turned the wagon right back around, and retraced our steps until we found George lying on the sidewalk. He said I was so happy to find him.
From time to time, Papa would ask if I still had that same Curious George. And, yes, I do. He got an even bigger kick out of the fact that Jacob also loved Curious George. Mine's the one a 20 month old Jacob is cradling in his left arm.












Papa met Alex when he was 6 weeks old (I had to do the math several times because Alex looks so huge).









I feel grateful for the visit I had with him two weeks ago. The visit where he was talkative, humorous, and loving, as always. And I'm happy to have that as my last memory of him.

His funeral is this Friday. Because of his time served in WWII, the military will honor him during the service.
Gosh, he would love that.

I love you, Papa, and you've always been my favorite grandparent. I'll miss you so much.