For Papaw - 1Tribute
Mar 3, 2009
I need to tell you about a very important man in my life. A man who loved family, gardening, telling jokes, and helping people in any way he could.
On Sunday morning, this man went to Heaven.
He was finally reunited with the love of his life, my grandmother. He’d fought a two year battle with health issues brought on by a stroke. We always thought of him as a tough man, and these last few weeks proved that he was still a fighter.
During this time, I have been thinking a lot about my childhood, and how he and my grandmother were such a huge part of it. My parents always made sure that we spent time with them, and I thank them very much for doing so.
I always enjoyed spending the night at their house whenever my parents went out for their Anniversary. On the way there, my father always stopped at McDonald’s and got us dinner. When we entered their home, we said hello to them, then headed to the kitchen to eat our meals.
Papaw usually came in and would talk with us, and tell us all the snacks he had for us to eat. He always made us popcorn on the stove, this was before he bought a microwave. We loved watching it pop in the pan, and he would always tell us to stay away from the stove until the “corn” was finished popping.
He loved watching television, and I remember that on Saturday nights he would watch Hee Haw. My grandmother wasn’t a fan of television, because of her illness. She’d always say, “You kids don’t need to watch that foolishness.” After she said this, Papaw would say, “Now Red, you leave them kids alone and let them watch television.”
I think the only part of staying the night with them that we didn’t care for was bedtime. He’d put us to bed and then turn the lights out, and the house was pitch black. When we told him we were scared, he’d say there was nothing to be scared of and to go to sleep.
Sometimes, when our parents came to pick us up, Papaw would take all of us to Bob Evans. It was my grandparents’ favorite place to eat. When the waitress would come to the table, he introduced us. He’d tell her that my twin sister and I weighed two pounds and seven ounces when we were born.
When I was around the age of four, my father began taking me to the Shriner’s Hospital in Lexington, Kentucky. For most of the trips, we had to get up before the crack of dawn, and Mommac and Papaw always went with us. Papaw always had a cooler in the backseat filled with Root Beer and Diet Rite, which Mommac drank when she took her medicine. We always stopped for breakfast at a restaurant called, Jerry’s, and Papaw always loved it because every time we ate there, I would order the French toast.
There were a few times that Mommac and Papaw would pick us up from school, because of our parents’ work schedule. Papaw always asked us if we had our “lessons” with us. It took us a few minutes, but we realized that “lessons” was his what he called homework.
One Summer, my brother, Eric went with Mommac and Papaw to visit our Aunt in Colorado. After he came back, I couldn’t wait to take the same trip. A couple years later, Emily and I decided to go with them to Colorado. I went back with them the following year, with my sister, Leslee. Anytime we entered a new state, Leslee would clap and Papaw thought it was me and told me to quit. It was so funny.
During the long drive he’d start to play music so that he could stay awake, and Mommac would tell him to turn it off. He’d say, “Now Mac, I’m getting tired and I need to do something to keep me awake.” She’d tell him, “Don’t get ugly honey.” He’d turn the music off right after she said that.
It was so great watching them together. While he was driving, she would look at him and ask, “Do you love me honey?” I’m not sure whether he didn’t hear her or if he was pretending that he couldn’t, but he would say, “What did you say?” She repeated her question, “Do you love me honey?” And he would say, “Well yeah, yeah.” She then said, “Then say it to me.” He’d say, “I love ya.” Then she would ask him to give her a kiss, and he did.
It was so sweet seeing them show their love for one another. These two people meant the vows they made to each other. Their relationship is what “true love” is.
Shortly after we got back from Colorado, Papaw suffered his first stroke.
A few years after his stroke, he had to have heart surgery, and while he was in the hospital, my dad asked my siblings and I to stay with Mommac while he was at work.
As Mommac’s health began to decline, Papaw stayed busy doing what he loved best, gardening. He took such pride in the things he grew. The things he grew were, green beans, peppers, cucumbers, and the most beautiful roses you’ve ever seen. Gardening helped him stay busy, but he always had time to take Mommac to Bob Evans. After she started using a wheelchair, he built a ramp in the backyard of the house and had a lift installed in the van he bought.
The year after Mommac passed away, I made my third trip to Colorado with him. One day, while we were on the road, I was looking in the mirror and noticed one of my eyes was very irritated. He said when we stopped for the night he’d put drops in for me. As he was getting ready to put the drop in, I closed my eye real fast and he said, “Now, you gotta keep your eye open damn it.” I started laughing so hard, because whenever he cussed it was funny. He’d tell me stories about Mommac and I loved hearing them, it was like she was right there with us.
In 2002, my parents and I moved into the house across the street from Papaw’s, because my dad worried constantly whenever he called Papaw and he wouldn’t answer. It proved to be a smart move, because the following year, Papaw suffered a second stroke. Within a month he was back on his feet, and back in his garden.
Over the next few years, Papaw enjoyed spending time with Leslee’s two sons, Dylan and Jacob. He would let them help him pick peppers and he would spoil them, just as he had spoiled my siblings and I. He would ask Leslee when she was going to get started on having a little girl.
In 2006, Leslee became pregnant with a little girl. Papaw was thrilled. The baby was due in late December.
On December 6, 2006, as he was attempting to exit his car to go into Bob Evans, Papaw suffered his third stroke. During his stay in the hospital, Leslee gave birth to Allison, on December 28th. Everyone thought that he would bounce right back, just as he’d done after the last one.
Unfortunately he didn’t bounce back, this stroke was worse than the previous two, and he required a lot of care. So, being the close-knit family that we are, we all pitched in to care for him. My brother Eric would come down and help get him in the tub, and Leslee would come over to shave him and cut his hair. My dad would make sure he was fed and that his medications were in order. Due to my father’s own health issues, he needed someone who could stay with Papaw around the clock.
I volunteered, and I am so thankful that I did. I did things for him that I never thought I could do. I would get his breakfast ready for him every morning, give him his pills. Then after his visit to the bathroom, I would get him settled in his chair in the living room, so that he could watch television or nap if he chose to do so. On days that he had doctors appointments, I would dress him.
I helped on and off until March 3, 2008. My father had been to Duke for a checkup, and his doctor told him that he needed to take care of himself.
So dad made a difficult choice, and checked him into a local nursing home, and Papaw never complained, he never told dad to take him out of there. He said they treated him very good.
Things started out well, he was planning to join a gardening group. Also while he was there, he saw the arrival of Emily’s first child, a daughter named Jillian. He was also looking forward to the birth of Eric and Della’s baby boy, who he nicknamed, “Big John.”
In the winter of 2008, Papaw got the stomach flu and lost a lot of weight. Dad kept saying he thought that Papaw was just holding on long enough to see “Big John.”
Last month, Leslee went up to visit, and she called dad saying Papaw wasn’t doing good at all. She came to the house, and asked me if I wanted to go see him with her the next day. I said I’d like to, and so we went, and he was having a better day. Talking to us and telling me how good my beard looked.
As we were leaving I said, “I love you Papaw.” He didn’t hear me, so Leslee repeated it, and he said, “I know it.”
That was the last thing I said to him.
Early morning, Saturday, February 28th, my father called Leslee and said that Papaw was in bad shape. He wasn’t talking and his breathing was very labored. We all headed up to see him, and seeing him lying there was very hard. People would stand close to the bed and talk to him, but he was so weak that he couldn’t talk, he would just move his mouth. I stayed there with him most of the day, and shortly before we left, dad said he would like to have someone stay with Papaw all night so he wouldn’t be alone. Eric and Leslee’s husband Chad said they would stay, so we headed home to get something to eat.
Around midnight, Eric called and told dad that the nurse said she thought it would be a good idea for dad to come up there, because she didn’t think Papaw would make it through the end of her shift, which ended at 7 in the morning.
So, mom and dad left, and I waited here with Leslee and her kids. I was planning on staying up all night, because I wasn’t sure when they would call. I couldn’t do it, and I went to bed shortly before three that morning.
My bedroom door was open, and I heard the front door open, and then the sound of my father’s voice. He walked in, and I raised up. He said, “Buddy, dad died around 6:40 this morning.” I went, “OH!”, and headed for the kitchen.
Leslee was in there, and she asked me if I was ok, and at first I said I was, but then she asked again, and it was over. I buried my head in her shoulder, and said, “I want him to tell me one more story.”
We’ve all been saying how strange it is to feel two different emotions about his passing, sadness that he’s not here physically and happiness that his suffering is over and he’s now reunited with Mommac.
I am so grateful to God for giving me this man as a grandfather. I loved all the time we spent together. Him chuckling after telling several dirty jokes, I swear he had a million of them.
To Papaw, I want to say that I love you, and I will miss you terribly.
Until we meet again….
