The odd irony of to whom...

Papa is dead. 8.35am, Monday October 8th, 2007. We had been giving him 2 different meds all week. Morphine for the pain, and RDHP(or something-I'll figure it out later) which is a 4 drug cocktail to help him relax and sleep. It all had worked rather well until Sunday nite. Throughout the course of the nite, Papa grew more and more agitated. He continually complained of having to go (to the bathroom). Each time I would lower his bed rail, get him standing, up over to the commode, and then back into bed. And each time, nothing would come. You see, he didn't really have to go, it was the blood building up in his abdomen that was creating pressure and making him feel as though he did. He began complaining of back pain and stomach pain, and so I gave him morphine. He was restless, and so I gave him the other meds. He was still restless, more meds, the third time he got up, he tremored slightly, then began to pass out. I got him back into bed. I sat him up just to situate him in the bed and he began to pass out again. Now he was quiet. The look in his eyes as they glazed over was a gut wrenching sight.

I knew it was time. I ran upstairs and woke Nana and my mum. Papa came to and was in discomfort. I gave him 2 more shots of morphine. He finally began to relax. We called everyone and they all arrived post haste. As all seven of his children, and all of his grandchildren stood in the room, around him, watching him, Papa's respirations grew shallower and less frequent. And then, finally, he partook of his last mortal breath. Nana was right there, at his side, and she burst wide open. She leaned her body over his and lay on top of him, crying, weeping, shouting "No!". The rest of the family followed. I immediately went to her side, holding her, in an attempt to console her and reassure her that it was alright. His body was no longer in pain. He was in the room with each and all of us. My mother stood at his head, with her hands cradling his cheeks. I rose and went to her side. "He's ok now. He's still here, ya know?." She cried. "I know.", she muttered under sobs, and I embraced her.

As my mum and aunts helped Nana into the kitchen, I sat down beside Papa. I held his arm, his right arm with his sacred heart in mine. I lingered on the inks of our arms, together, one last time. "Hey there old man." I couldn't move my eyes from him, the man who raised me, instructed me, led me, cherished me, respected me, loved me unconditionally, who was proud of me, who never forgot me during even the worst of his alzheimer's, the man whom I idolize, exalt, appreciate and adore. The way I have known him these 32 years, is no more. Being blessed with my spirituality and level of awareness, I realize that death is merely a transition from the physical shell, and that Papa still exists and flourishes. With this in mind, I just sat there, regarding him, taking my last, deep, concrete visions. Tears again, crested my eye but never quite broke. Then they were gone.

Mum called the hospice nurse who was at another house in Basking Ridge. She got stuck in traffic and didn't arrive to officially pronounce until well after 9 o'clock. I stood beside the nurse as she dispensed all of the remaining meds into paper towels and then into the trash. She quickly completed her paperwork, expressed her sincere condolences, and then left. The coroner came shortly after 10, alone, in his white wagon. He removed an orange Reeves stretcher from the back and then proceeded up the front steps. I pulled up Papa's pj's under the sheet...You see, he was an exceptionally modest man, to the end, and I wanted him to be able to have that. We then rolled Papa to me, placed the stretcher under him, rolled him away, and unrolled the stretcher. After covering him in a sheet, I helped the M.E. cinch up the straps and us 6, Uncle Rob and Frank, Robert, Christopher, Steven and myself, each took a handle and carried Papa to the wagon, onto the gurney, 2 buckles, and in he went..."See you later old man."

At noon, I went with my mother and Nana, along with mum's friend, to the funeral home to make the arrangements for Papa's cremation and service. I was absolutely flabbergasted! I never fathomed how much goes into caring for dead loved ones and how many details there are! We were there for a good 3 hours easy! Social Security benefits transferring, how many death certificates needed, where do they have to go, what about his insurance going to Nana, obituary, urn, what clothes to cremate him in, priest, VFW, repass, flowers, food, music, photos, contacting all the legalities concerned, what will medicaid cover, what won't it cover, prayer cards, words, holy moly! Phew...finally over and back to the house.

Oh the dramma!...

Well before we left for the parlor, I handed everyone pen and paper, and asked them to write some things they would like said about Papa in the obit. Aunt J was the only person able to sit down and write about Papa and her love for him. M began writing the names of the kids and grandkids, but was ferklempt and could not continue. When we left, no one was able to give us anything else. For what we thought we could afford, we put the names of each of the children with their spouses, and each of the grandchildren, then the number of great grandchildren. Now apparently, my cousin J has recently found reason to believe that his first child might not actually be his child. Because of this, he and his wife, D, had resolved to not include her as a grandchild. Somehow Aunt N had incited between herself and D, an argument about this (they've not gotten on from the get go). Nana decided she wanted J's first child counted because in Papa's heart, she was his great granddaughter and we needed to do right by him and what is in his heart! J took offense to this because no one talked to him about it first, and D, who had for the entire weekend, holed herself up in either the basement or mum's bedroom because of issues she has with her estranged deceased father, was right along side of him.

I couldn't believe what the two of them were doing. This was about Papa and they were making it about themselves. I attempted to reason with the both of them and D lost her patience and shot me down, gave me the hand and walked away with closed ears. J couldn't get over how no one talked to him and he's the last to know. "It's not about you, bud." Well, J and D's children, H and B, whom I love and adore, were not talking to myself or my mother. How really odd! I couldn't believe that their mother, actually instructed them not to talk to us. And as I was downstairs talking with J and pulling teeth to make him understand the sitch, B barreled down and whispered to him that mommy said he shouldn't talk to me! I was dumbfounded. D came down and began packing up their luggage to load with every intent of leaving. Before the service, "What happened between you and your dad sucks! I get it! But you dragged those children all the way up here to support your husband in his grief for his grandfather, and so that they could see Papa one last time. That's what this is about!"

Wednesday October 10
They had disappeared before the service and we were left to the conclusion that they weren't coming. Nana was furious. We arrived to the parlor, and there they were...thankfully, however the kids were still avoiding us like plague. The service was nice. My Grandpa came! It was soooo good to see him! I got to meet plenty of folk, and see some I've not seen in many years. The VFW boys were great, they presented Nana with a bible, flag, and played taps...that set off alot of people. After the words, and as some were departing, H and B came running up to mum and myself and latched on to our legs. We gather that J had finally had enough! He and D got right into their car and left though. I am so disappointed in D. My mother, Nana, Papa, and myself, welcomed her to the family with open arms, respect, and compassion. I've spent many a night and noon on the phone with them, trying to help them communicate with each other and save their marriage. And she comes into the house, and does what she does. I and everyone else love J and the kids to death! I don't think D will be welcomed back in mum and Nana's home, or anyone else's. It's sad that things happened the way they did.