Tough engagements
He still hadn't cried yet. At least not that we were aware of. He even made jokes about it.
"Just got a bill for my car insurance" he said, opening his mail after getting home from the hospital.
"Guess I'll let that one slide"
He was dying.
I had been in a meeting with a home-owner the Friday Leah called. She usually only called me during lunch time on weekdays, and it was 2:30p. I pressed "ignore", and continued to talk to the home-owner thinking I'd call her back after I was finished. It was when she immediately called me again that I realized that something was wrong. The lady I was speaking with could tell by the look on my face that something was wrong and excused me so that I could take the call.
"Leah?"
"Clay" she said between sobs.
"Leah, are you ok?"
"No" she said with a strained voice. "My mother just called me and told me my dad has a bad cancer and has chosen not to fight it! He's in the emergency room now. He had blood in his urine and Adam drove him to the hospital!"
"I'll be right there, if you'll wait for me. I have a full tank of gas. We can drive over as soon as I get home. That is, if you'll wait for me. Start packing."
"I'll wait"
I quickly finished with my work obligations and flew home on the toll-way. Leah's dad, Steve, lives in Wimberly, which is a three-hour drive from where we live in Houston. I knew we probably wouldn't get there in time to see him that night, but I wanted to get to the general area as soon as possible in case anything happened.
We quickly stuffed some clothes in a bag and grabbed the dog and went out the front door. The drive to central Texas was surreal. Full of silence interrupted with sniffles and tears. We would occasionally look at each other and I'd catch traces of fear and distress in her eyes. The sun had set and the lights of the dash-board reflected off the tears on her face and made them look like a highway of headlights driving up and down her face. So far the silence had only been interrupted by worried speculations as to how bad Leah's father's cancer was, which were usually followed by uncontrollable sobs from the passenger seat. Leah explained that she realized her sadness was mostly selfish. Her dad was highly spiritual and had already accepted his fate gracefully. It was she who felt cheated. After he died, his suffering would be over and we would be the ones to have to go on in sorrow and despair. He would never meet his grandchildren, Leah anguished. He would not be there to walk her down the isle once we finally got married.
"What can we talk about that doesn't have to do with my dad?"
I went on to tell her about my day and about the interaction I'd had with my boss earlier that week.
As I anticipated, it was too late to see her dad when we pulled into the San Marcos area so we continued on to my parents' place nearby to stay the night.
We spent most of the next day in the hospital room with her dad. Her brother Adam, who also lived in Wimberley, was already there, but aside from him we were the first to arrive. Steve was in generally high spirits and was most concerned about making us comfortable, which made the atmosphere a little tense on the contrary. Steve said the doctor had taken a biopsy of his lung and would be by in the mid afternoon to discuss the results. Around eleven, other visitors and family members trickled in, making the atmosphere a little more tense. Leah and I occasionally exchanged nervous glances. Adam kept nervously glancing at his phone and rushing out of the room when it rang. Leah's sister futilely busied herself with her two year-old daughter to take her mind off of the looming bad news. We were all anxious to hear what the doctor would say.
Finally, around noon, the doctor came in. He explained that Steve had an advanced kidney cancer that had metastasized to his lung. He summarized that patients with similar conditions lasted one to six months without treatment and not much longer with it. It was the worst news.
The afternoon continued in a state of devastation, everybody crying or morning in their own way except for Steve, who was apparently apathetic. The doctor had called a representative from a hospice care clinic to come in that afternoon and talk to Steve. Since Steve would not be fighting the cancer, his only concern was comfort and quality of life, which is where hospice care came in. They could visit him at home and write prescriptions for pain and provide assistance bathing and such once he became too weak to do it himself. Once Steve talked to the representative, he could be discharged and go home.
By the time the hospice care lady came, everybody had left except for Leah, Adam, and myself. Adam is a peculiar figure to read. He has battled addictions to substances and to his abusive and belittling girlfriend for years and it has left him with a touch of a stutter in his speech and a very bad temper. I had been watching him all day. At times, he seemed alright, and at others I had to wonder. He was oddly attached to his phone. While hospice was speaking with Steve, Adam went out to the hallway to answer a call. Over the kind hospice lady's voice, we could all hear Adam's voice gradually increase in volume outside, indicating that he was probably arguing with somebody. Could his girlfriend possibly be giving him trouble now? At a time like this?
We heard a nurse in the hallway say, "Sir, we're going to need you to lower your voice."
Leah, who was always worried about her brother, took that as her queue to go and see what was the matter. As she exited the room, we all heard a loud thud and then it was my turn to rush out and see what was up. Adam had punched the wall near the elevator door and was hunched on the ground crying. Security guards had heard the commotion and several nurses rushed up as well to deal with him. They were going to try to take him away and were calling the police. Adam stood up and argued that he was sorry and to leave him alone, but they grew intimidated by his sudden movement and it did the opposite of helping him. Then we noticed that his hand was bleeding badly. He had punched the metal plate encasing the "up" and "down" buttons for the elevator and had literally broken both his hand and the elevator. This created quite a stir, as several people were now in the hallway trying to defuse the situation. This all excited Adam who looked like he may lose control until finally Steve, hospital gown and all, hobbled out into the hallway and shouted,
"Adam! What are you doing?!"
Everybody paused what they were doing and stared him.
"Adam, stop talking to that destructive girl and get back inside the room."
That was enough. Steve obviously had curious powers over Adam and was surprisingly able to demonstrate control in this scene of chaos. Scrawny, degenerated and soft-spoken, he was still not a man to be argued with. People assumed that they should let the dying man discipline his son and slowly they left the area.
That night, after Adam drove Steve home and then left, Leah and I hung out at Steve's house. His house was a wonderland. A child's dream. It was a fort for kids, a house for trees, a pole for the north. He was a framer, in profession, and had slowly built this austere lodging from scraps left over from jobs. When one first sees it, he immediately assumes a mystical creature lives within. Perhaps and elf, or a gingerbread man. Maybe even a wizard! Leah's dad was very much like a wizard in posture and in wisdom.
He did not have accommodations ready to admit Leah and I for the night, so we realized we would just stay a short while and return to my parents' place for the night. An hour's time put us sleepy and ready to leave. Steve looked like he could use some alone time too. Throughout the day I had been with an idea, and realized that now may be my only chance to fabricate it.
As we were walking out the door, I said "Leah, can you please go warm up the truck? I just want to talk to Steve really quick"
She gave me a curious protesting look at first but then changed her mind when she saw sincerity in my expression and took the keys from my hand. I did not know Steve all that well, and he gave me a questioning look as well as Leah left the house. I sat down in front of Steve and cleared my throat,
"Steve, there's something I want to talk to you about. Now I don't have a speech planned out or anything because this is all so sudden, but anyway, I respect you. And I respect your daughter even more. And I'm in love with her. Now Leah and I have not talked about this but I know her well and I know that she would appreciate me being responsible and traditional about this, so I want to ask you: Can I marry your daughter?"
It took Steve by surprise, but I think he found more amusement and beauty from the ordeal from anything else. He chuckled a little and smiled and me and said,
"Well sure Clay. Sure, you can marry my daughter. I mean, do you love her?"
"I really do."
"Well of course you do! I can see that" he said in a comedic matter-of-factly tone. "I just thought I'd ask!"
The mood up to that point had been jovial, but I cleared my throat again,
"There's something else"
Seeing the somber look in my face, Steve stopped laughing and grew serious.
"Leah has cried a lot for you today. We have talked a lot about death in the last 24 hours and she realizes that she's not really crying for you so much as she's crying for herself. It sounds selfish, I know, but often when you lose a loved one, the hardest part is going on after they're gone. Once you pass, your suffering is over, and Leah knows you've already found peace with that. But she's the one that will go on a life-time wishing you had been there for it. She is tormented by the thought that you will never meet our children. And though we aren't formally engaged, we've known that eventually we will marry, and she is deeply agonized by the realization that you wont be there to walk her down the isle."
Steve may not have thought about the implications of his death until now, because I could tell that this conversation was hurting him. He closed his eyes and nodded. I tried to get to the point.
"Maybe we can at least do something about the wedding part" I said suggestively. "Steve, I don't know much about these things, but if I were to be able to throw together a wedding within a month or two, before your health declines, do you think you would be interested in walking your daughter down the isle?"
It was with that that Steve finally cried. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes and when he opened them, there were the faintest of tears. I could not help myself and also buckled under the extreme turmoil. We both sat there silently for a while, wiping our eyes.
"Do you have a ring?" he asked.
"No. I've saved for one though, and can have it on her finger in a week."
"Clay, I'm leaving some good people behind. Some good people." He sniffled, "I worry about Leah, Clay. And I'm so glad to know that I'm leaving her with someone like you. You will take care of her. This is good."
"Thank you Steve. I'm going to go out to Leah now."
We shook hands and I left. When I got to the truck, I couldn't hide my tears. I had foolishly thought I could keep the conversation a secret, but Leah demanded to know why I was crying and what I spoke to her father about. I realized I could not keep the secret from her. It would be cruel. I looked at her and wiped my eyes and said,
"Leah, I just asked your father for permission to marry you."
She was overtaken by emotion. Tears spilled abundantly down her face. She was so sad about her dad, but so grateful for what I was doing. We hugged and kissed and wept together for what seemed like an eternity before I finally put the truck in gear. While we drove back to my parents' place, I told her more about the conversation and explained to her about the ring and rushing together some plans for a wedding. She was very excited.
For the past two weeks since then, we've been pedal-to-the-metal with our plans and preparations. I bought her a beautiful ring (at least in my opinion) and she says she loves it. It is an antiqued white gold band with classy filigree etchings to make it look old fashioned. I topped it with a nice diamond. The ring is classy and uniquely beautiful, but simple and subtle, like my darling Leah.
We are looking to possibly be married in March in an out-door chapel at John Knox Ranch, a summer-camp I used to attend regularly as a child.
Things are going really fast, but I am excited, and I feel like this is so right.
God. The world. They work in mysterious ways.
"Just got a bill for my car insurance" he said, opening his mail after getting home from the hospital.
"Guess I'll let that one slide"
He was dying.
I had been in a meeting with a home-owner the Friday Leah called. She usually only called me during lunch time on weekdays, and it was 2:30p. I pressed "ignore", and continued to talk to the home-owner thinking I'd call her back after I was finished. It was when she immediately called me again that I realized that something was wrong. The lady I was speaking with could tell by the look on my face that something was wrong and excused me so that I could take the call.
"Leah?"
"Clay" she said between sobs.
"Leah, are you ok?"
"No" she said with a strained voice. "My mother just called me and told me my dad has a bad cancer and has chosen not to fight it! He's in the emergency room now. He had blood in his urine and Adam drove him to the hospital!"
"I'll be right there, if you'll wait for me. I have a full tank of gas. We can drive over as soon as I get home. That is, if you'll wait for me. Start packing."
"I'll wait"
I quickly finished with my work obligations and flew home on the toll-way. Leah's dad, Steve, lives in Wimberly, which is a three-hour drive from where we live in Houston. I knew we probably wouldn't get there in time to see him that night, but I wanted to get to the general area as soon as possible in case anything happened.
We quickly stuffed some clothes in a bag and grabbed the dog and went out the front door. The drive to central Texas was surreal. Full of silence interrupted with sniffles and tears. We would occasionally look at each other and I'd catch traces of fear and distress in her eyes. The sun had set and the lights of the dash-board reflected off the tears on her face and made them look like a highway of headlights driving up and down her face. So far the silence had only been interrupted by worried speculations as to how bad Leah's father's cancer was, which were usually followed by uncontrollable sobs from the passenger seat. Leah explained that she realized her sadness was mostly selfish. Her dad was highly spiritual and had already accepted his fate gracefully. It was she who felt cheated. After he died, his suffering would be over and we would be the ones to have to go on in sorrow and despair. He would never meet his grandchildren, Leah anguished. He would not be there to walk her down the isle once we finally got married.
"What can we talk about that doesn't have to do with my dad?"
I went on to tell her about my day and about the interaction I'd had with my boss earlier that week.
As I anticipated, it was too late to see her dad when we pulled into the San Marcos area so we continued on to my parents' place nearby to stay the night.
We spent most of the next day in the hospital room with her dad. Her brother Adam, who also lived in Wimberley, was already there, but aside from him we were the first to arrive. Steve was in generally high spirits and was most concerned about making us comfortable, which made the atmosphere a little tense on the contrary. Steve said the doctor had taken a biopsy of his lung and would be by in the mid afternoon to discuss the results. Around eleven, other visitors and family members trickled in, making the atmosphere a little more tense. Leah and I occasionally exchanged nervous glances. Adam kept nervously glancing at his phone and rushing out of the room when it rang. Leah's sister futilely busied herself with her two year-old daughter to take her mind off of the looming bad news. We were all anxious to hear what the doctor would say.
Finally, around noon, the doctor came in. He explained that Steve had an advanced kidney cancer that had metastasized to his lung. He summarized that patients with similar conditions lasted one to six months without treatment and not much longer with it. It was the worst news.
The afternoon continued in a state of devastation, everybody crying or morning in their own way except for Steve, who was apparently apathetic. The doctor had called a representative from a hospice care clinic to come in that afternoon and talk to Steve. Since Steve would not be fighting the cancer, his only concern was comfort and quality of life, which is where hospice care came in. They could visit him at home and write prescriptions for pain and provide assistance bathing and such once he became too weak to do it himself. Once Steve talked to the representative, he could be discharged and go home.
By the time the hospice care lady came, everybody had left except for Leah, Adam, and myself. Adam is a peculiar figure to read. He has battled addictions to substances and to his abusive and belittling girlfriend for years and it has left him with a touch of a stutter in his speech and a very bad temper. I had been watching him all day. At times, he seemed alright, and at others I had to wonder. He was oddly attached to his phone. While hospice was speaking with Steve, Adam went out to the hallway to answer a call. Over the kind hospice lady's voice, we could all hear Adam's voice gradually increase in volume outside, indicating that he was probably arguing with somebody. Could his girlfriend possibly be giving him trouble now? At a time like this?
We heard a nurse in the hallway say, "Sir, we're going to need you to lower your voice."
Leah, who was always worried about her brother, took that as her queue to go and see what was the matter. As she exited the room, we all heard a loud thud and then it was my turn to rush out and see what was up. Adam had punched the wall near the elevator door and was hunched on the ground crying. Security guards had heard the commotion and several nurses rushed up as well to deal with him. They were going to try to take him away and were calling the police. Adam stood up and argued that he was sorry and to leave him alone, but they grew intimidated by his sudden movement and it did the opposite of helping him. Then we noticed that his hand was bleeding badly. He had punched the metal plate encasing the "up" and "down" buttons for the elevator and had literally broken both his hand and the elevator. This created quite a stir, as several people were now in the hallway trying to defuse the situation. This all excited Adam who looked like he may lose control until finally Steve, hospital gown and all, hobbled out into the hallway and shouted,
"Adam! What are you doing?!"
Everybody paused what they were doing and stared him.
"Adam, stop talking to that destructive girl and get back inside the room."
That was enough. Steve obviously had curious powers over Adam and was surprisingly able to demonstrate control in this scene of chaos. Scrawny, degenerated and soft-spoken, he was still not a man to be argued with. People assumed that they should let the dying man discipline his son and slowly they left the area.
That night, after Adam drove Steve home and then left, Leah and I hung out at Steve's house. His house was a wonderland. A child's dream. It was a fort for kids, a house for trees, a pole for the north. He was a framer, in profession, and had slowly built this austere lodging from scraps left over from jobs. When one first sees it, he immediately assumes a mystical creature lives within. Perhaps and elf, or a gingerbread man. Maybe even a wizard! Leah's dad was very much like a wizard in posture and in wisdom.
He did not have accommodations ready to admit Leah and I for the night, so we realized we would just stay a short while and return to my parents' place for the night. An hour's time put us sleepy and ready to leave. Steve looked like he could use some alone time too. Throughout the day I had been with an idea, and realized that now may be my only chance to fabricate it.
As we were walking out the door, I said "Leah, can you please go warm up the truck? I just want to talk to Steve really quick"
She gave me a curious protesting look at first but then changed her mind when she saw sincerity in my expression and took the keys from my hand. I did not know Steve all that well, and he gave me a questioning look as well as Leah left the house. I sat down in front of Steve and cleared my throat,
"Steve, there's something I want to talk to you about. Now I don't have a speech planned out or anything because this is all so sudden, but anyway, I respect you. And I respect your daughter even more. And I'm in love with her. Now Leah and I have not talked about this but I know her well and I know that she would appreciate me being responsible and traditional about this, so I want to ask you: Can I marry your daughter?"
It took Steve by surprise, but I think he found more amusement and beauty from the ordeal from anything else. He chuckled a little and smiled and me and said,
"Well sure Clay. Sure, you can marry my daughter. I mean, do you love her?"
"I really do."
"Well of course you do! I can see that" he said in a comedic matter-of-factly tone. "I just thought I'd ask!"
The mood up to that point had been jovial, but I cleared my throat again,
"There's something else"
Seeing the somber look in my face, Steve stopped laughing and grew serious.
"Leah has cried a lot for you today. We have talked a lot about death in the last 24 hours and she realizes that she's not really crying for you so much as she's crying for herself. It sounds selfish, I know, but often when you lose a loved one, the hardest part is going on after they're gone. Once you pass, your suffering is over, and Leah knows you've already found peace with that. But she's the one that will go on a life-time wishing you had been there for it. She is tormented by the thought that you will never meet our children. And though we aren't formally engaged, we've known that eventually we will marry, and she is deeply agonized by the realization that you wont be there to walk her down the isle."
Steve may not have thought about the implications of his death until now, because I could tell that this conversation was hurting him. He closed his eyes and nodded. I tried to get to the point.
"Maybe we can at least do something about the wedding part" I said suggestively. "Steve, I don't know much about these things, but if I were to be able to throw together a wedding within a month or two, before your health declines, do you think you would be interested in walking your daughter down the isle?"
It was with that that Steve finally cried. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes and when he opened them, there were the faintest of tears. I could not help myself and also buckled under the extreme turmoil. We both sat there silently for a while, wiping our eyes.
"Do you have a ring?" he asked.
"No. I've saved for one though, and can have it on her finger in a week."
"Clay, I'm leaving some good people behind. Some good people." He sniffled, "I worry about Leah, Clay. And I'm so glad to know that I'm leaving her with someone like you. You will take care of her. This is good."
"Thank you Steve. I'm going to go out to Leah now."
We shook hands and I left. When I got to the truck, I couldn't hide my tears. I had foolishly thought I could keep the conversation a secret, but Leah demanded to know why I was crying and what I spoke to her father about. I realized I could not keep the secret from her. It would be cruel. I looked at her and wiped my eyes and said,
"Leah, I just asked your father for permission to marry you."
She was overtaken by emotion. Tears spilled abundantly down her face. She was so sad about her dad, but so grateful for what I was doing. We hugged and kissed and wept together for what seemed like an eternity before I finally put the truck in gear. While we drove back to my parents' place, I told her more about the conversation and explained to her about the ring and rushing together some plans for a wedding. She was very excited.
For the past two weeks since then, we've been pedal-to-the-metal with our plans and preparations. I bought her a beautiful ring (at least in my opinion) and she says she loves it. It is an antiqued white gold band with classy filigree etchings to make it look old fashioned. I topped it with a nice diamond. The ring is classy and uniquely beautiful, but simple and subtle, like my darling Leah.
We are looking to possibly be married in March in an out-door chapel at John Knox Ranch, a summer-camp I used to attend regularly as a child.
Things are going really fast, but I am excited, and I feel like this is so right.
God. The world. They work in mysterious ways.