Memories

All I want right now is to go to sleep. But then going to sleep simply isn't enough when you can't stay asleep. So, what I really want is to fall and stay asleep -- to be specific. Ever since last Wednesday... Well, I haven't had an actual night's sleep since before. Maybe if shit would stop coming up, I could stop stressing long enough to actually get some good REM.

My insomnia started last Wednesday with my PawPaw. PawPaw is (was) my step mom's father. He'd been diagnosed with ALS -- a disease where your muscles basically stop working over time -- last fall/late summer. It worked through his body very quickly. By Christmas he was in a wheel chair and had a special device to hold his arm so he could eat. By early January, the last I'd seen him before last Wednesday, he couldn't even lift his arms on his own.

Kathleen, my step mom, had tried keeping me updated as things progressed. She informed me when he couldn't walk or use his arms at all. She informed me of when he had to be put on a machine to help him breathe. She informed me of when they put in a feeding tube. I knew, as the information became more dire, that he was much more quickly spiraling down -- though I just figured to myself "I have time to see him."

Very early last week -- may have even been on Sunday or Saturday -- I got emails stating that Hosparus (used to be called Hospice) was being set up in my grandparents' home. I know what Hosparus is and what it means: it means that person's dying, and they're there to simply help make dying a little easier. I knew, I just didn't acknowledge, I guess. Then, after exchanging emails across my dad's aunts and such about plans for Easter weekend, I got a message early last Wednesday morning from Kathleen letting everyone know that she won't be attending any Easter celebrations, because the doctors had informed her that her father could go at any time now.

It finally sunk in: PawPaw's dying. He's dying now. Because I have no class on Wednesday, and therefore it's my homework day, I finished my house and homework, called Kathleen to let her know that I was finally coming over, and sped into Louisville. Kathleen did warn me before I left, "It's going to be hard... to see him like this." I'd seen my mom's dad in the hospital dying from cancer a couple years ago, and it was a tragic thing for me to see this tall, strong man who I always adored to have wasted into the skinny, old frame that sat on the hospital bed. At least he was conscious, though. I'd always regretted how I said goodbye to my mom's dad, Granddad. I was so scared of the fact that he was dying, and so before we left, I had given him a short hug, rushed out the words "I love you," and almost ran out of the room. That's how I remember it, anyway. Because my mom's parents live -- "lived" for Granddad -- in Arizona, I had to leave to get my flight back home. A couple weeks later my mom got the call that he'd moved on.

Because I rushed my goodbye, my final goodbye, I never felt at peace about the passing of my mom's father, my Granddad. I had promised myself since then that I would never rush saying goodbye ever again. You only get one chance at it, after all. So, as I drove over to Kathleen's parents' home, I braced myself for what I knew I was going to see and went over in my head what I was going to say to my PawPaw. I was not going to regret again. Even though I grew up close to PawPaw, and therefore had many memories of him in my mind, the image that seemed to define him the most for me was of him wearing one of his wide-brimmed sun hats, standing relaxed with his giant walking stick he'd take with him when he took us grandkids out to the river bed. Oh, and with an almost constant grin on his face. A sly grin that told everyone he had yet another corny joke brewing in his head. That's the image that's always stood out in my mind the most.

When I got to MawMaw's, my Aunt Brenda -- eyes red -- showed me back to the room his bed had been set up in. I could literally feel the weight in the air. Kathleen's two sisters, Ginna and Judy, from out of town had already flown in and where there with her and her brother, Brian, and his wife Brenda. All of PawPaw's kids were there already, along with MawMaw, his wife. The weight in the air made it hard to breathe as I walked back to the room. Then I saw him lying on the bed. His gasping for breath made a clicking sound each time he inhaled, his arms and legs were completely still, and his eyes were closed. As soon as I saw him the dam behind my eyes crumbled, and the tears started falling. Yes, he really is dying. My aunts and Kathleen hugged me for comfort, and MawMaw started crying with me, thanking me for coming. I had finally come over.

They told me while they weren't 100% when he was awake, he'd responded a few times to "yes" or "no" questions with shaking his head some. They said he could hear me. It was so hard to talk, let alone talk loudly. They told him I was here. I touched his hand, kissed his forehead, rubbed his arm, and I told him I loved him. They'd started giving him morphine almost hourly so that it wouldn't hurt too much to breathe. Every once in a while when I was there, the morphine would start to wear off, and his breathing would slow while his hands and feet turned blue. But he still gasped for breath while I was there.

I spent time with Kathleen, MawMaw, my aunts, my uncle, and some of my cousins who'd made it over that night. I was so happy to be with them that evening. I didn't want to be anywhere else with anyone else. I just wanted them there with me. Before I left that evening, I touched and kissed PawPaw, and I told him I loved him. I told him I was leaving. I knew I was going back the next day, and told everyone else before I left. Even though I had classes, I emailed my professors to inform them of the situation and that I'd be with my family instead. Thursday morning I did have to attend my public speaking class. I had a speech due, and this late in the semester, it'd be a pain to have to re due.

I was eating lunch when Kathleen called me on Thursday afternoon. Could I please go to her and my dad's house to be there when the girls -- my little sisters -- got home from school, was what she wanted. "Sure, no problem," I replied. "He's passed. He's not with us anymore, Julie. His pain is gone now." The words slipped so easily into my ears, but then exploded in my head. "Do you mind telling Vanessa and Dianne? Are you okay with doing that?" "Sure, I don't mind."

I eventually made my way back to MawMaw's that evening. I hugged everyone. We cried. We made arrangements. I was made a pallbearer, and felt honored. When I finally got back home to my boyfriend's house, I was almost like a zombie in a way. I couldn't tell if I was tired, nervous, or sad. So I drew a picture. A woman curled up in a drop of blue water. A smiling face above her. The word "blue" scrawled next to the drop. Purple smudged all around the picture. The yellow and orange word "hope" written so small in the bottom corner. It's how I felt, I guess, in some way.

His funeral was Monday, April 13th. It rained when we got to the funeral home. The clouds stayed out during the prayers and service. I watched them close the casket over his body. He's truly gone now, I'd thought to myself. It was so hard to see that, but it gave me closure. I knew that he's gone now. I knew I'd said goodbye. I knew that he loved me, and I made sure to tell him that I loved him. During the Hallelujah chorus in the service, the sun came out. Sun was much more fitting for this. He's not in pain anymore. He's free now. He's happy now.

When I got home Monday evening, I drew another picture. I'd been listening to Arcade Fire, and thinking about their music. I wrote out the lyrics to "Keep the Car Running" on a piece of paper in dark blue. I sketched a crude figure of a man in brown, black and green, bent over looking down. Behind him and to his right I sketched another figure in yellow, green, and purple with arms outstretched towards the dark figure and large, yellow wings extending to the top of the page. Their bodies weren't colored in, and so you can see the words behind them. I outlined in red over the blue the words "If some night I don't come home; please don't think I've left you alone."

I'm still mourning PawPaw's death. I don't like correcting myself when I start to say "MawMaw and PawPaw's house," cutting myself off at his name. But I have complete peace now. I was able to say goodbye -- like I needed to. I'll always miss him, but this time, I have no regrets. Though I did learn one thing from this past week: stay close to your family while you have them. This world isn't forever, and people are all we have. Family and friends are what's important. That was PawPaw's final lesson for me. And I'll always thank him for it.