Of course being pregnant I started crying... a lot! My Papa Hannah means the world to me. I didn't want to see him suffer anymore, but I also didn't want to see him go.
Nov. 4th, she let me know that he was going to be moved to a hospice and that he probably wouldn't last past the weekend. I, of course, start crying...again.
Nov. 5th, a little after 9:30pm (my time) I received the phone call that I had been dreading getting. My sister, Melanie called to let me know that he had just passed away. We cried for a little bit over the phone, tried to comfort each other, and then she told me that my Mama would be calling soon so we hung up. I cried lots and then my Mama called me. She let me know that he loved me very much, which I knew, but it was still hard knowing that he wasn't here physically anymore. She talked with me and then with Stew for a couple minutes and then told me that she had some more people to call. Stew and I sat on the couch and I told him some of the memories I have of Grandpa. He gave me a blessing and then I went to bed. I didn't sleep much that night. I woke up the next morning to see that Stew had written a beautiful tribute to Grandpa. I feel very blessed to have had him in my life. I am happy that he isn't suffering anymore and that he is with Dalon and Brant and the rest of our family who have passed on. I know that I will see him again some day and that he is watching over us right now. We weren't able to be in St. Johns for the funeral yesterday because of how far along I am in my pregnancy, but I know that my family understands why and that they know that we love them all very much. I love you Papa Hannah!
Here is what my wonderful husband wrote:
a man I barely knew
Sunday, 06 November 2011 00:14 Stewart Pierson 3 Comments
There are rare moments when I take the time to seriously reflect on the things that are important to me. Often important questions and deep thoughts cross my mind but I rarely allow myself the opportunity to be vulnerable and put them in words. I recall my younger years when I wrote in a journal with such fervent dedication that all of my most personal thoughts were recorded on paper. I have 5 years of densely written journals and then... nothing. It has been ages since I've allowed that to happen.
Tonight, however, I felt the need to reflect. The question that is floating around in my mind is "who do I want to be?" You see, tonight my wife's grandfather died. I hardly knew the man but something about him and his life captivates me.
The time I spent with Chera's grandpa Hannah was limited. I think the fact that I didn't know him well allows me to look at him objectively and make some observations that his family might have overlooked. Until tonight I knew very little about him other than what I had gathered in the short time I had the chance to talk to him. Tonight, after she found out about his passing, my wife shared with me many things I didn't know about him. Things which he should be proud to take to the next life. But those are her personal stories and I won't tell them here.
Here's what I knew on my own:
Over 30 years ago, Chera's grandpa Hannah was diagnosed with a severe form of Lupus, an autoimmune disorder. His doctors informed him that it was unlikely he would live more than 6 months. As the story goes, he told his doctor that it was God who would decide when he'd die and that he planned to live to see great-grandchildren.
Many years after being diagnosed with Lupus, he was there to meet his first grandchild - my wife Chera, who he helped raise for the first year of her life. She talks about him with such love and longing that I can only pray my own grandchildren will have for me.
Chera's grandpa Hannah has had an extremely difficult life. Because of his Lupus, much of the last 30 years he has suffered excruciating pain and undergone brutal treatments related to his condition. Since I've known him, he has been very frail and weak but that was never the impression I got of him. He reminded me a lot of Clint Eastwood - a rough-around-the-edges cowboy who was full of piss and vinegar. He is the type of man you'd imagine in one of those western paintings - maybe a sun-kissed cowboy sitting on his porch after a day of herding cattle. Despite everything his condition threw at him, he was strong. Maybe not in the way we define strength by today's standard, but the way it was drawn years ago when goodness was considered strength. In my opinion, strength is the ultimate form of beauty.
Like I said earlier, I didn't really know him well so I can't judge him by the life he led or the actions he took. What I do know is that sometimes you can just feel the goodness in people. I understand that it is easy to overlook someone's faults after they have passed on and only see them as the highlights of their life. But I didn't know his highlights or his low-lights.
All I know is that he was kind to me.
So, my thoughts have turned back to the question "who do I want to be?" I suppose the answer to that is that I want to be kind. And I want to be strong. I may never have rippling biceps or washboard abs but I can posess a strength beyond that. I want to be the the type of man that will be seen this way not only after I die, but also while I am alive. I guess that in many ways I want to be a man like Chera's grandpa Hannah... as I know him.
A man I hardly know has taught me what it is to have strength and kindness. I know that my wife and her family will sincerely miss their grandpa and I'm glad that my children were able to meet their great grandpa Hannah.
I am glad you are finally at peace. You deserve rest.
1 comment:
I'm really sorry about your Grandpa Chera! At least his pain is finally over and he's now watching over you. And Stewart's memorial for him is beautiful. He sounds like a wonderful man!
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