I am a self professed Daddy's girl.
Seven years ago tomorrow at 0400, my Pop accepted a position with God as a Guardian Angel. Twenty days prior to that, we were told that tumor that had been removed from his brain was cancer that had metastasized from his lungs. About a week before that, I was able to do something that many children never get to do, be the same rock for a parent that they had been for me.
In 1980, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Pretty much any treatment that I had was experimental. About a month short of my 13th birthday, I had a 12 inch incision made straight down the middle of my stomach. That night (as I have been told) following the surgery, my Pop took that watch. What we consider as normal today, was experimental then. I had staples inside that were to dissolve and the incision was taped closed. I managed to rupture the incision that was taped closed.
When my Pop was admitted to SLU for his surgery to remove the tumor, I was blessed to spend the night with him in the hospital as he had done for me. Prior to surgery, we had noticed that he was having "word salad" and struggling more than he had ever been. I remember him going down for his surgery that afternoon and it taking most of the day and into the night, when about 2200 hours, we were told that he was in recovery and doing well. We were told to go home because it was so late but I had to see my Pop. Mary and Mom left and I waited to see him. When I was able to go back about an hour later, he was sitting up and it was as if all the symptoms he had been experiencing for the past 4 months to 7 years went away. He was my Pop that I knew, joking and being sarcastic.
I know that I am so blessed to have served him in the way that he had served me. When we were told that it was cancer and that hospice would start the following day, I had no clue the journey I would be on for the next 20 days. Those are days that I can say that treasure and hold in my heart. Those are days that have defined me. I remember Pop saying good bye to the boys while I was feeding him chicken broth. He had lost his ability to speak and on that Thursday night, he slipped into a sleep that would last for four days. I took the night watches and watch Seinfeld with him and laugh and just talk to him. I pushed the morphine for him to remain comfortable. I would inject it into his mouth and then use the bubble gum sponges to help with the taste. He made some of the best faces that could rival Klem Kaddlehopper. I remember his body settling into memory foam mattress. I remember feeling his arms as his blood started pooling and I remember is skin getting softer and starting to model. I remember laying in mom's bed and Mary waking me up at 0315 to tell me that Pop was almost through his journey. With each breath, a breath that only they dying do, we would tell him that it was okay for him to go. But Pop already knew that because he had told Mom and Mary to not worry about anything, Christa was strong enough and would take care of everything. When he took his last breath, I just laid my head down on his legs and wept. At 0400, I called Hospice and made the death notification.
My Pop's passing was very peaceful. It was everything that he had prayed for. It was quiet and the three women that had loved him unconditionally were right there with him. I also believe that his mother was standing there waiting to greet him with open arms. During the last week or so, we could here him talking and carrying on a conversation. Now, this was not unusual but what was was when we asked who you talking to pop? The answer was his mother and brothers. I believe they helped him through the light.
I have been through a journey the past few years since my Pop's acceptance of this job as A Guardian Angel that have found me sitting next to his marker at Jefferson Barracks in tears and in laughter. I am my father's daughter.
Treasure every moment of every day. Know that you are blessed by so much that you cannot even see or know. Love you, Pop. I know that you are taking care of me every moment of every day.
