Greg Bowers, your avatar makes me smile!

This was a post I wrote about Papa:

4.8.2004

My great grandfather, Papa, is hanging in the gray area between life and death right now. He is unconscious and his throat has closed up and can no longer swallow, possibly from a stroke he had sometime this past week. His body is riddled with cancer and they were about to amputate his foot to save the rest of him. But now hospice care has been called in. When he entered into the nursing home he signed a form that said he was not to be fed by tubes and kept alive, he'd rather die. He watched his own mother kept alive this way and it was horrible for him. He told my Grans during a break from his dimentia that "this isn't living, give me a knife or a gun, I just want to die." He's 93 and it has been amazing that he's been here this long. It wasn't until a few years ago that he started losing touch with reality, so I think we are lucky to have him this long. I hope the Lord takes him soon to end his suffering and my Grans's, Aunt Joan's. Aunt Louise's, and Aunt Glenda's. And the rest of us. We love you Papa.

posted by Melissa Hopkins on 4/8/2004 09:29:15 AM

I wrote that all the way back in April. He just now finally got peace. God.

I'm sorry my blog has been the journal of doom and gloom but I have more: My great grandfather Papa passed away last week and his funeral was last Friday. I also found out yesterday that my best friend growing up died last year and I had know idea.

Why did Papa have to wait so long to die to alleviate his suffering, but Matt and Danielle were both taken in their mid twenties? Matt didn't even get a chance to start his life and Danielle had a little boy she still needed to take care of. I don't understand God's reasoning.

I have escaped the pain of people close to me dying for the most part. My grandfather died a few years ago, but he had a tumor the size of my fist in his throat and death was merciful. Before that Jason Dukes, a guy from my youth group in Kansas (we had the same birthday) fell asleep at the wheel at 4 am and hit a semi head on. He was only 19. The only other death I experienced was my second cousin Jarred, who was riding a motorcycle on wet road and his brakes locked and he skidded under a semi. I was only 5. My mom came to me and told me that Jarred had gone to see Jesus.

The thing is, those deaths didn't hurt me so deeply before. I understood what happened, I grieved, and I trusted God knew what he was doing. I still do, but I am also now a mother and something in my heart has changed.

I am so much more vulnerable to the pain and finality of death.

I haven't felt much like writing anything lately. I don't feel like it today but I need to. I am currently listening to Kennedy resist the urge to nap even though she is super tired. She's teething really bad today so everything is going to be a challenge. I'm still sick, this is going on week 3 for the headache/sore throat/fatigue or as Sara B. calls it B-mont Disease. I worked 6 days in a row last week and had a much needed Sabbath yesterday. I am soon going up to work tonight and after I close I have a manager meeting. It seems like there is no end to the cycle. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but I wish that it was a world that paid teachers the salary they deserve for a thankless job raising the majority of the kids that come through their classrooms. That way I wouldn't work nearly as much and could spend a little more time at home with my husband and my daughter.