I’ve put this blog off for days--2 weeks in fact........ I’ve finally slowed, and have forced myself to put some words on paper. I don’t know exactly what to say, but I know that I need to explain my long absence. I had to leave the Africa Mercy for awhile, and today 16 days after I arrived home, two weeks after he died, and one week after we laid him to rest, I write this sitting in my Grandpa’s chair.
On July 22nd, my 25th birthday, one of our worst fears came to be. The pain in my Grandpa’s ribs that we had talked about for 2 weeks was more than just an ache. He had bone cancer in multiple spots the worst of which was in his back. I was at the very end of six amazing weeks at home, and the next day I was due to go back to the Africa Mercy. It was a horrible night of contemplation, but based on him saying, “now Hannah, you ARE getting on that plane tomorrow and you WILL go and help people” I went. The next day I boarded a plane and met the ship to sail into the Republic of Congo for another field service. The last two and a half months have been off and on, one step forward and two steps back. I have talked to my Mom almost every day getting updates on what was happening with Grandpa. As time went on we had small victories and major setbacks. It was horrible to watch my family struggle from another continent. Helpless was the word I used most to describe my feelings. It was consuming, and insanely difficult. We always left each conversation with me asking, “Do you need me?” and my Mom always replying, “Not yet Boo...not yet”. Many doctors appointments, radiation treatments, a feeding tube, home oxygen and several transfusions later I received the phone call that I knew deep inside me would eventually come no matter how much I prayed it wouldn’t. Grandpa was ill, and It was time for me to come home. Only after all we had battled through, this one hit my family like a 90mph curve ball---my grandpa had suffered a devastating stroke while in hospital. We didn’t see it coming, and there was no way for us to anticipate this twist. It didn’t look recoverable, and over the phone at two am locked in my friends bathroom, my family and I had those horrible end of life conversations that no one ever wants to have. In a little over 48 hours I filled out all the paperwork, handed over my job educating the local nurses, said goodbye to my amazing friends, took one last ride through Pointe Noire and boarded a plane home. The 22 hours of flying time were some of the longest. Finding a place for internet at the airports, waiting for that message, unsure of whether I would make it home in time. I arrived back on US soil the 13th, my Brother and Dad picked me up, and we drove straight to the hospital. I got in at 7:15pm. Jet lagged, greasy, and emotional I went to see him....
I had 24 hours with my Grandpa before he passed. He was not conscious any of those hours, but it was a time for me to just be with him. To tell him stories of the Congo, reminisce about all those times we had while I was growing up, and share with him my deep love for him. To tell him that it was okay for him to go be with Jesus, and assure him that we would all take care of Grandma. It was so difficult, but a beautiful time for my family to surround him. It was incredible that during his entire illness, he never had to spend the night alone. He had someone with him around the clock. He was loved so deeply, and it was evident during his last days how greatly he was cared for. How many lives he had impacted, and how well he had raised a family. My Grandpa went to be with Jesus on Monday October 14th with 6 of his surrounding his bed. We wept together, and as he left this world we knew that he was going somewhere far greater than here. For the next week we camped out at my Grandma’s. Supporting one another, mourning together, sorting through photos, and just celebrating the life of one of the greatest men I have ever known. My Grandpa was a proud man, and he constantly made me laugh. He was famous for his printed T-shirts with clever sayings, his sandals that left permanent tan lines on his feet, and his 2 sweaters that he had worn for the last 20+years. He was known for his glory days in the Barber Shop quartet, his many years behind the meat counter at the grocery store he owned, and his 25+years working for Pitney Bowes. He will be remembered for his ridiculous ability to rig anything with a rubber band and a paper clip, his affinity for tarp straps, and his jokes. He will be remembered for his amazing cooking, his love for motorcycle trips, his proud service to the military,and his use of the saying “simmer down” to his giggling grandchildren. He will be remembered for his incredible ability to remember dates, his long stories, his love for fishing and his hilarious emails. He taught me to save, to take care of what I had, to re-use things. He taught me loyalty and how to honor those you love. He taught me how to serve with zeal, and that you should always give to another human. He was highly regarded by all who knew him, and he will be so deeply missed. There is a definite hole in my heart, and I really can’t believe that he’s gone. His life is permanently ingrained in my soul, and who I am today is in so many ways because of him.....It won’t make sense to any of you, but as far back as I can remember he always said it to me, and I always knew it...... “I love you bushels, pecks, heapy gobs, and more and more too”.
I love you Grandpa, and I can’t wait to meet you again one day.........
