I'm a
huge fan of movies, and I'm also hoping to help raise awareness about
disabilities. I figured since the Oscars were held last Sunday, and
National Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day coming up on March 25th, I would
write something in between these two important days to me.
The films I'm going to mention are just ones I thought of off the top of my head, it's not my intention to purposely leave out other films that deal with disability issues.
The first film I thought of was, The Best Years of Our Lives. It was the winner of the 1946 Best Picture Oscar.
The film also won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for Harold Russell.
Russell was a real-life WWII vet who had lost both hands when a
defective fuse detonated an explosive he was handling while making a
training video.
Russell also received an honorary award for
bringing hope and courage to fellow veterans. This was done because the
Academy thought his competition in the Best Supporting Actor category
was too strong for him to prevail. He is the only performer in Academy
history to win 2 Oscars for the same role.
In 1948, the film,
Johnny Belinda was released. The film starred Jane Wyman as Belinda, a
blind, deaf-mute girl who is raped by one of her family's farm goods
customers. Wyman received the Best Actress Oscar for her performance.
Next on my list is the 1962 film version of, The Miracle Worker. The
true story of Helen Keller, a blind and deaf girl who had an
extraordinary relationship with her teacher, Annie Sullivan. The film
starred Anne Bancroft as Annie Sullivan and Patty Duke as Helen Keller.
Both performers won Oscars for their performances.
The
following year saw the release of, A Child is Waiting with Burt
Lancaster and Judy Garland as the director and teacher at a mental
institution who clash when the teacher (Garland) challenges the
director's methods.
In 1986, a film version of the Tony-winning
play, Children of a Lesser God was released. The film starred William
Hurt as a teacher at a school for the hearing impaired, and Marlee
Matlin (in her film debut) as a former student at the school, now
working as the school's janitor. As the pair's relationship evolves, he
tries to get her to come out of her shell and learn to speak. She
unwilling to do so, because when she tried to speak years before, she
sounded awful.
The film received five Academy Award nominations
and had one win for Marlee Matlin as the years Best Actress. The
following year, Matlin presented the Best Actor award, and caused
controversy in the deaf community by insisting on speaking the names of
the nominated actors, rather than signing.
The last two films
I'll mention, deal with two real-life people who overcame the struggle
of severe cerebral palsy and made their dreams a reality.
The
first film, Gaby: A True Story, tells the story of Gabriela Brimmer.
Brimmer's body was completely paralyzed due to the severity of her
cerebral palsy. She went on to become a college graduate, a writer and a
disability rights advocate.
The film was nominated for two
Golden Globe awards. Rachel Levin was nominated for Best Actress – Drama
for her performance as Gaby. A few years later, Levin changed her last
name to Chagall and had a recurring role on The Nanny as Fran Drescher's
friend Val.
Norma Aleandro received Best Supporting Actress
nominations from the Golden Globes and the Academy for her role as
Gaby's nurse, Florencia Morales.
The last film, My Left Foot,
told the story of Irish writer and artist, Christy Brown. Like Gaby
Brimmer, Brown was also born with a severe case of cerebral palsy. The
only part of his body that he was able to move was his left foot.
The film was nominated for five Oscars, and took home two awards.
Brenda Fricker was chosen as the years Best Supporting Actress for her
role as Christy's devoted mother Bridget.
Daniel Day-Lewis received his first of three Best Actor Oscars for his amazing performance as Christy Brown.
Of the performances to have been nominated for or won an Academy Award,
Harold Russell and Marlee Matlin are the only people with a disability
to have accomplished this feat.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Monday, August 20, 2012
What I Believe
I consider myself a Christian, and I am not ashamed to admit it.
Last week while looking on Facebook, I noticed a link that showed a picture of a cross at the Ground Zero site. There was a statement with the picture that said atheists were planning to sue to have the cross removed. Shortly after I posted the link to my page, I was told that the picture was a hoax, so I removed the link from my page.
I have read statements from atheists that say, “Science explains everything.”
I’m here to tell you about one situation where science was wrong.
A young mother is at the hospital to deliver her third child. There’s only one problem, the woman is only six and a half month’s pregnant.
At 8:24am, the woman gives birth to a baby girl. The doctor then tells the woman and her husband that there’s another baby on the way. The father says, “That’s not funny.” The doctor responds, “I’m not kidding.”
The father is rushed out of the room while the mother undergoes a C-section. At 9:24am, a baby boy is born. The twins are dangerously underweight, weighing only 2lbs and 7 ounces apiece.
The premature babies are taken to the NICU and the outlook is grim.
The father speaks with a doctor and asks about his son’s chance for survival. The doctor tells the father, “Go home and I’ll call you when he dies.” Devastated by this, the man asks if he can see his son one last time. The doctor informs him that it wouldn’t be a good idea, but the man pushes the doctor out of the way to see his son.
Thankfully, the man never received a phone call from the doctor.
Despite a collapsed lung, the baby boy and his twin sister improve and spend several weeks in the hospital until they’re well enough to go home.
I have been wondering for awhile that, if science does explain everything, then how could medical science have been wrong in predicting the certain death of a premature baby?
Here’s what I think.
God had a plan for this baby boy. God kept the baby here for a purpose.
This isn’t written to stir debate, because I know that people are going to believe whatever they want to. I am just using my right to share what I believe.
Last week while looking on Facebook, I noticed a link that showed a picture of a cross at the Ground Zero site. There was a statement with the picture that said atheists were planning to sue to have the cross removed. Shortly after I posted the link to my page, I was told that the picture was a hoax, so I removed the link from my page.
I have read statements from atheists that say, “Science explains everything.”
I’m here to tell you about one situation where science was wrong.
A young mother is at the hospital to deliver her third child. There’s only one problem, the woman is only six and a half month’s pregnant.
At 8:24am, the woman gives birth to a baby girl. The doctor then tells the woman and her husband that there’s another baby on the way. The father says, “That’s not funny.” The doctor responds, “I’m not kidding.”
The father is rushed out of the room while the mother undergoes a C-section. At 9:24am, a baby boy is born. The twins are dangerously underweight, weighing only 2lbs and 7 ounces apiece.
The premature babies are taken to the NICU and the outlook is grim.
The father speaks with a doctor and asks about his son’s chance for survival. The doctor tells the father, “Go home and I’ll call you when he dies.” Devastated by this, the man asks if he can see his son one last time. The doctor informs him that it wouldn’t be a good idea, but the man pushes the doctor out of the way to see his son.
Thankfully, the man never received a phone call from the doctor.
Despite a collapsed lung, the baby boy and his twin sister improve and spend several weeks in the hospital until they’re well enough to go home.
I have been wondering for awhile that, if science does explain everything, then how could medical science have been wrong in predicting the certain death of a premature baby?
Here’s what I think.
God had a plan for this baby boy. God kept the baby here for a purpose.
This isn’t written to stir debate, because I know that people are going to believe whatever they want to. I am just using my right to share what I believe.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Tear Stained Blog
For Papaw - 3
Nov 3, 2009
Nov 3, 2009
It’s been eight months since my grandfather passed away. This past weekend, I spent the weekend at my brother and sister-in-law’s house. This house was my grandfather’s residence before he went into a nursing home, and the place where I spent several months helping to care for him after he’d suffered a stroke.
This was only the second time I’ve been in the house since Papaw’s death. I have a very hard time going throughout the house, because I’m reminded of the time I spent there two years ago.
If I stay in the living room I do just fine. Saturday night, I went into the kitchen to throw something away, and as I got to the trash can, I thought of being in the exact same spot before while getting Papaw’s medicine. I also noticed that the sliding pantry door that Papaw always left open, is now closed.
As I turned to leave the kitchen, I stared at the kitchen table, and although it’s not Papaw’s table, I still thought of him sitting there in the morning as I made his breakfast. He’d tell me, “Now don’t forget to put some of that chocolate cereal in there. And some of that canned milk, and apple butter.” He’d give these instructions every single morning.
The first time I fixed him breakfast, I put too much water in the oats and although I know he probably didn’t like it, he ate almost all of it. When I apologized for putting too much water in the oats, he told me, “It’s ok, you did a good job.”
The other room in the house I have a hard time going in, is the back bedroom. I spent most of my time in that room watching TV, while Papaw watched TV in the living room.
I went in the back bedroom Friday evening to change clothes, and I couldn’t stop thinking of all the time I’d spent in there. My brother and his wife have the furniture situated almost exactly like Papaw had his arranged. The TV and the stand it sits on are the only things in the room that were in there when Papaw still lived there.
When I left that room after changing clothes I headed to the living room. As I was heading in there, I remembered all the times Papaw would yell for me to come in and ask me to get him something, or help him in his wheelchair so he could use the bathroom, or get ready to eat dinner.
There is one room of the house I haven’t been in since the morning Papaw left for the nursing home. The middle bedroom. This was the room where Papaw slept and where I would dress him if he had doctor’s appointments or therapy.
I can’t bear to even look in that room now. I still expect to see the bed with his shoes under it. His TV tray with a drink and the remote control on it. This room was the last place in the house that we were in together.
Before he left for the nursing home, he thanked me for taking care of him. He told people at the nursing home that I took care of him just like a doctor would have.
I’m not sure if that’s true, but it’s a very nice compliment. As hard as it sometimes was, I am truly thankful that I could be there for him when he needed me. Just like he was there for me when I needed him.
Wishing He Was Still Here
For Papaw - 2
Sep 15, 2009
I have been thinking of my grandfather a lot over the last few days. I have thought about him every day since he passed away in March, but these past few days have been really tough.
Sep 15, 2009
I have been thinking of my grandfather a lot over the last few days. I have thought about him every day since he passed away in March, but these past few days have been really tough.
It started on September 11th, because on that day, it had been nine years since we took our final trip to Colorado. We went to visit my aunt because she was going through chemo treatments, and he wanted to see how she was doing. He also went to visit his granddaughter so he could bring her some tables he had made for her.
I remember being in the van and the two of us just talking, listening to the radio.
I enjoyed hearing him tell stories about work, his garden and my grandmother. He would also tell jokes, which always made me laugh, especially when he laughed after telling them.
We had a nice visit at my aunt’s house, but I know he couldn’t wait to go to his granddaughter’s house to deliver her tables, and also check out her farm. We had a great time at her house, and good food, which included home-made applesauce. It was so good!
The next day, we headed home. I remember him talking politics and saying that “Gore better win, or we’re in trouble.”
While we were still on the road, I was looking at my eyes in the mirror, and I noticed that my right eye was irritated. Papaw said, “When we stop for the night, I’ll put drops in your eyes.”
When we got settled at the hotel, he got ready to put drops in my eyes. He told me to put my head back, and as he was getting ready to put the drop in, I closed my eye. He said, “You gotta keep your eye open dammit.” As soon as he said that I laughed so hard, it was so funny. I think that’s why I put it in every blog I’ve written about him.
On Saturday we had a family reunion. It’s an annual event. This year was the first one since Papaw passed away.
I had a great time talking with family members I don’t see that much. At the same time, it was very hard to be there and realize he wasn’t going to be sitting at the table with us, or going around the room telling stories and jokes.
I received an email from my cousin, who is also the granddaughter I mentioned before. The title of the email was, “You Are My Sunshine.” This was a song I heard my grandfather sing to my grandmother when I was growing up.
When I saw the title of the email, I could hear him singing it to her. As I read the email, I lost it, which is something I hardly ever do.
I know that he is not in pain anymore and he’s in a better place, but I wish he was still with me. I miss him so much..
Tribute
For Papaw - 1
Tribute
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….
Tribute
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….
Remembrance
Still from MySpace
Aug 23, 2009
Today marks the tenth anniversary of my grandmother's passing. I have thought about her everyday for the last ten years. I can still see her smiling face, and hear her tell me that she loved me.
She was sick off and on for 15 years. When people told my grandfather that he should put her in a nursing home, he said no, and took very good care of her.
There were several times over those 15 years where it looked like she wouldn't be with us any longer, but she always fought hard and survived.
In July of 1999, my parents had a Fourth of July party at their house and Mommac and Papaw came. I remember hugging her and telling her I loved her. I asked her how she was feeling, and she said she was feeling good. She had a big smile on her face.
It was the last time I saw her.
A week later, I went to South Carolina to visit my sister and her husband. One day during my stay, Leslee told me that Mommac was in the hospital. I asked if she was ok, and she said, "Yeah, but she's dehydrated."
Things took a turn for the worse, and she spent several weeks in the hospital. One night, my father asked me if I wanted to visit her, I said, "No, I can't see her like that. I want to remember her the way she was on the Fourth of July." He said if I changed my mind to let him know.
A week before she died, my sister Emily took me shopping for clothes so I would be prepared just in case Mommac passed away.
This brings us to Monday, August 23rd 1999.
Emily and her then boyfriend were going to go to the mall, and she invited me to go with them. Before we left, my mother asked Emily if she had her pager. Em said she had it, and we headed out.
We were at the mall for awhile, when Em's pager went off. She was scared, because she was sure it was Mom or Dad trying to contact her about Mommac. She called them, but they weren't calling about Mommac.
On our way home, the pager went off again. Em pulled over at a pay phone and talked with my father. She asked what was wrong, and all he said was, "Get home quick."
She pulled into the driveway, and bolted out of the car and into the house. Her boyfriend helped me out of the car and into my wheelchair. As I turned to sit down, Em came running out of the house crying hysterically. Her boyfriend said, "Did she?" And Em cried, and said, "Yes!"
When we went inside the house, my father came over to me. He hugged me and said, "Mom died Buddy."
I couldn't say anything. I thought if I opened my mouth I would start crying and never be able to stop.
I began to busy myself. I headed for my bedroom to put away the stuff I bought. Before I went into my room, my mother got down on the ground, looked at me and asked if I was alright. I said, "Yeah" in a quiet voice. Then she said, "Are you sure?" I said, "No", and I lost it. My mother hugged me tight and I buried my head in her shoulder.
After that, my parents told us the events leading up to her passing. My father was holding her when she took her last breath, and they said when she was gone, she had a smile on her face.
I feel so lucky to have known her, and to spend all those years with her and my grandfather.
This year they are together in Heaven. I know that since my grandfather joined her, she's had a smile on her face.
Aug 23, 2009
Today marks the tenth anniversary of my grandmother's passing. I have thought about her everyday for the last ten years. I can still see her smiling face, and hear her tell me that she loved me.
She was sick off and on for 15 years. When people told my grandfather that he should put her in a nursing home, he said no, and took very good care of her.
There were several times over those 15 years where it looked like she wouldn't be with us any longer, but she always fought hard and survived.
In July of 1999, my parents had a Fourth of July party at their house and Mommac and Papaw came. I remember hugging her and telling her I loved her. I asked her how she was feeling, and she said she was feeling good. She had a big smile on her face.
It was the last time I saw her.
A week later, I went to South Carolina to visit my sister and her husband. One day during my stay, Leslee told me that Mommac was in the hospital. I asked if she was ok, and she said, "Yeah, but she's dehydrated."
Things took a turn for the worse, and she spent several weeks in the hospital. One night, my father asked me if I wanted to visit her, I said, "No, I can't see her like that. I want to remember her the way she was on the Fourth of July." He said if I changed my mind to let him know.
A week before she died, my sister Emily took me shopping for clothes so I would be prepared just in case Mommac passed away.
This brings us to Monday, August 23rd 1999.
Emily and her then boyfriend were going to go to the mall, and she invited me to go with them. Before we left, my mother asked Emily if she had her pager. Em said she had it, and we headed out.
We were at the mall for awhile, when Em's pager went off. She was scared, because she was sure it was Mom or Dad trying to contact her about Mommac. She called them, but they weren't calling about Mommac.
On our way home, the pager went off again. Em pulled over at a pay phone and talked with my father. She asked what was wrong, and all he said was, "Get home quick."
She pulled into the driveway, and bolted out of the car and into the house. Her boyfriend helped me out of the car and into my wheelchair. As I turned to sit down, Em came running out of the house crying hysterically. Her boyfriend said, "Did she?" And Em cried, and said, "Yes!"
When we went inside the house, my father came over to me. He hugged me and said, "Mom died Buddy."
I couldn't say anything. I thought if I opened my mouth I would start crying and never be able to stop.
I began to busy myself. I headed for my bedroom to put away the stuff I bought. Before I went into my room, my mother got down on the ground, looked at me and asked if I was alright. I said, "Yeah" in a quiet voice. Then she said, "Are you sure?" I said, "No", and I lost it. My mother hugged me tight and I buried my head in her shoulder.
After that, my parents told us the events leading up to her passing. My father was holding her when she took her last breath, and they said when she was gone, she had a smile on her face.
I feel so lucky to have known her, and to spend all those years with her and my grandfather.
This year they are together in Heaven. I know that since my grandfather joined her, she's had a smile on her face.
Just For Being Me
From MySpace
Dec 27, 2006
Dec 27, 2006
During the end of every school year, there is always some sort of awards assembly. Usually handing out certificates for perfect attendance, and various other scholarly achievements.
Here is a story of the year that I was given an award for being myself.
At the end of every school year, the school presented two awards, named in honor of two women who had left a lasting mark on the school.
The first award was the Kelli Maxwell Award. The award was named for a young girl who had been killed by a drunk driver, while waiting at her bus stop. She was set to begin the seventh grade. This award was presented annually to one outstanding seventh grader.
The second award was named in honor of one of the school's previous teachers. The award is called the Reba Ray "CARE" Award. It is presented annually to two outstanding eighth graders.
The day of the awards assembly, was also the day the outgoing eighth graders headed to the high school, to get us familiar with what would be our new surroundings, in the fall.
During our orientation at the high school, my sister Emily was taking me where I needed to go. I told her that I didn't want to go to the awards assembly when I went back to the middle school. I figured it was going to be boring and hot. She told me to go ahead and go, that way I could tell her who won the two main awards.
We head back to the middle school, and a short while later, they call all students to the gym.
They hand out a few more awards. Then they present the Kelli Maxwell Award to Kassie Waldorf.
A few minutes later they are ready to present the Reba Ray Award. The person announcing the award spends a few minutes, telling the audience about this teacher. And what made her so special to everyone who knew her.
Then she says, "The 1994 recipients of the Reba Ray "CARE" Award are, Jennifer Beller and Ryan Sayre."
When I heard my name, I thought I was dreaming. Everything happened so fast. I pushed myself to where the announcer was, and she handed me a small plaque. My name is right in the middle in big letters. As I turned the wheelchair to head back to where I was before, I notice my parents are standing in the corner of the gym.
They came up and congratulated me on the award, and they said they were very proud.
After a few more words, we were excused. As I was heading toward the exit, I asked them how they knew about the awards assembly. Mom told me that after I went to bed the night before, a counselor from the school called, and informed them that I had won.
Winning the award was such a special way to wrap up my time in middle school.
This story proves what I've always found to be true. When you are kind to others, good things come your way!!
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