The Passing of Time
At the age of 26 I have experienced for the first time the loss of a loved one. To have it be my Pepere (French Canadian for Grandfather) is quite a blow for me.
My Mom and Dad divorced when I was 1 1/2. From ages 2-6 we lived with my grandparents. My Pepere was the one to teach me the love of music. He has been a blue grass musician since forever. Some of the first memories that I have are of sitting on his lap while he played the guitar or practiced mastering the banjo. My favorite early child hood memory is of the two of us in my kiddie swimming pool. He went to sit down on a float and went ass over tea kettle in the pool to come up sputtering. The absolute best part is that it got caught in film because my Mom and Memere were on the deck with a camera.
For the last few years I have not been the best grand child. I let my juvenile anger over something small and stupid get in the way from contacting them more then once or twice a year. Even then it was only at my Mom's insistence.
The first week in May I got a call from my Mom saying that my Pepere had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The details hadn't been known yet except for the fact that it had already spread from his lungs to his liver. By the end of the month we all knew that he didn't have much longer to live. My Mom, Aunt and her Daughter, and Devon and I ponied up to spend Memorial Day weekend with them. I am very greatful that Devon and I were able to go. We learned while down there that his cancer had spread even further to his lymph nodes. Mom and I knew at that point that he wouldn't last till the end of summer. The family members who were able to come in spent time cooking, cleaning, talking, and learning about our geneology. Over the last 30 years my grandparents hobby was traveling all over New England and Canada collecting facts about our ancestors. This trip would be the last time I would see my Pepere alive and (mostly) well.
Fast forward to the beginning of July. The hospice workers informed my Memere that it wouldn't be much longer. Luck was on my Mom's side, and she got there in time to say good bye to her father. At 10:06 on Sat July 11, 2011 my Pepere lost his short battle with Cancer. It had spread to his bones, and he just couldn't fight it any longer.
I opted to not go to Florida for his memorial service or funeral. Part of me feels like a coward, but I just couldn't have that as my last memory of him. Its been a little over a week now and it still feels so surreal. I have created for the first time an ancestor shrine in his honor. I miss him terribly. I feel bad for my Memere who is alone literally for the first time in her life.
Most of all I feel greatful that he isn't in pain any more.
My Mom and Dad divorced when I was 1 1/2. From ages 2-6 we lived with my grandparents. My Pepere was the one to teach me the love of music. He has been a blue grass musician since forever. Some of the first memories that I have are of sitting on his lap while he played the guitar or practiced mastering the banjo. My favorite early child hood memory is of the two of us in my kiddie swimming pool. He went to sit down on a float and went ass over tea kettle in the pool to come up sputtering. The absolute best part is that it got caught in film because my Mom and Memere were on the deck with a camera.
For the last few years I have not been the best grand child. I let my juvenile anger over something small and stupid get in the way from contacting them more then once or twice a year. Even then it was only at my Mom's insistence.
The first week in May I got a call from my Mom saying that my Pepere had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. The details hadn't been known yet except for the fact that it had already spread from his lungs to his liver. By the end of the month we all knew that he didn't have much longer to live. My Mom, Aunt and her Daughter, and Devon and I ponied up to spend Memorial Day weekend with them. I am very greatful that Devon and I were able to go. We learned while down there that his cancer had spread even further to his lymph nodes. Mom and I knew at that point that he wouldn't last till the end of summer. The family members who were able to come in spent time cooking, cleaning, talking, and learning about our geneology. Over the last 30 years my grandparents hobby was traveling all over New England and Canada collecting facts about our ancestors. This trip would be the last time I would see my Pepere alive and (mostly) well.
Fast forward to the beginning of July. The hospice workers informed my Memere that it wouldn't be much longer. Luck was on my Mom's side, and she got there in time to say good bye to her father. At 10:06 on Sat July 11, 2011 my Pepere lost his short battle with Cancer. It had spread to his bones, and he just couldn't fight it any longer.
I opted to not go to Florida for his memorial service or funeral. Part of me feels like a coward, but I just couldn't have that as my last memory of him. Its been a little over a week now and it still feels so surreal. I have created for the first time an ancestor shrine in his honor. I miss him terribly. I feel bad for my Memere who is alone literally for the first time in her life.
Most of all I feel greatful that he isn't in pain any more.