My Papa

Since I'm new to this whole "blog phenomena", I figured I'd start with a post about my wonderful grandfather.

Jim Gray, 2007

I'm not sure where to start...

I guess I should say first that I love my grandfather and I miss him more everyday.

When I was little (and Papa still lived in Birmingham), one of my favorite things was to spend the night at his house on Saturday night and go to church with him on Sunday morning. He always had the "latest technology" (which I must say still surprises me to this day). He had AOL 2.0 before my parents or I knew what the Internet was. He had a Nintendo before I did. He loved technology (which is probably why I am the way that I am to this day) and he loved his stereo equipment. I remember going down into the basement where his office was, and playing on the Internet, learning to type (with the home-row keys) and dancing to Frank Sinatra with him at night. He always tucked me in later that night, and would wake me up early on Sunday morning. He'd pick me up and bring me into the kitchen where he had my breakfast and coffee waiting on me (he still did this as I got older, except he couldn't pick me up anymore. Instead he'd bring me my coffee and wake me up by rubbing my back and letting me know that breakfast was ready and waiting on me). After I finished eating, I would go get ready and put on a dress that my mom had packed me. When I'd come back into the kitchen, he always had a rose ready to pin on my dress for me that he had picked out of garden. He always had the prettiest flowers. I'm sad to say that I did not inherit his "green thumb".

Papa loved his old movies (as much as he loved Frank Sinatra and Johnny Cash). I remember watching Casablanca with him when I was younger, and him explaining how Humphrey Bogart was a big time movie star back in the day. There is a line in this movie where Bogart says to Ingrid Berman "here's looking at you kid". Papa would pour himself a glass of wine, and put some sprite or coke in a wine glass for me, and we'd toast. He'd say "here's looking at you kid", and I would reply with, "here's looking at you grown-up". Every time we were together (and most of the time with glasses of sweet tea) we'd repeat this toast. This is one of those strange little things that I still remember and will always cherish.

I believe the last time we had "our toast" together was Christmas of 2007. We'd normally do this in the kitchen or dining room when no one else was in there. This was "our toast" and we waited until we were alone. In the Spring of 08 he sent me a video of him toasting me via e-mail. I quickly responded with a video via e-mail of my line in the toast. I still have both of those on my laptop, and will never delete them.

Papa moved to the beach a couple of years after my grandmother died, and I was very upset at the time. I only got to see him a couple of times a year. I talked to him on the phone a lot when I was younger. I'm sad to say that when I got into high school, I didn't talk to him as much. I was busy with school and my friends. Plus I always thought "I had time". He always came back to Birmingham when there was a big event (my 16th birthday, my high school graduation). He came to see me on my 16th birthday and gave me the most beautiful 16 roses. He let me drive him around and didn't get on to me about some stuff that my parents did. He didn't bat an eyelash when my cell phone rang and I picked it up (now my mother would have a field day with this. I can hear her now: "you don't need to talk on the phone and drive".) It's strange the things you remember when you get older.

He was so excited when I got accepted into UAB my senior year in high school. I was the first person in my family to go to college besides him (although, he did not graduate). He wanted me to graduate and live a "fulfilled life". Once in college, Papa and I started writing letters to each other (good ole' fashioned snail mail). Reading his letters still make my heart smile. He made me stationary and we wrote letters back and forth up until my last year and a half in college. I got busier with school and work and didn't always have time to sit down and write a letter. We still talked on the phone and e-mailed, but I wish I had more letters from him now. After all, I was almost out of college, and I still had all the time in the world with my wonderful grandfather. In 2007 Papa came to Birmingham for Thanksgiving, as did the rest of the family (my aunt, uncle and cousins live in Gulf Shores). Papa normally came to Birmingham for every Thanksgiving (except the random one or two where we went to Gulf Shores). Papa always cut the turkey and would save the wish bone for me. It was a tradition, Papa and I would pull on the wish bone. It was the last Thanksgiving that we would have as a "whole family". If I had known that at the time, I would not have rushed out after lunch. I would have stayed and listened to my Papa ramble on about the simpler times in life.

I'm not sure what possessed my mother to take this picture, but it makes my soul and heart smile. I loved my grandfather very much. He was one of the few people in my life who never let me down. He was always supportive of me, and encouraged me to make the most of my life. My mom e-mailed me this picture in late 2008, and it will forever be the wallpaper on my laptop.

This is my Aunt Mary, Papa and my grandmother on Thanksgiving 2007.

Fall faded into Winter that year, and everything seemed almost normal. Papa got a cold in late November that he just couldn't shake. When Christmas rolled around that year, on the 25th my parents I loaded our cars to head to Gulf Shores for our "family Christmas". For some reason that Christmas, Papa decided he wanted an up-to-date family photo of us. We all agreed. I wish I had a copy of that picture somewhere. I know my mom does. Papa still didn't feel 100% that December, and I remember my heart telling me that he would be ok, but my head didn't agree.

January 2008 rolled around, and it didn't start off very happy for me. Lots of things went wrong that first week in 2008. I thought it couldn't get any worse, and apparently I was about to be proved wrong. My mom called me one day and asked me to come by the house to "talk". I remember thinking that was odd, and I already had plans. So I told her I'd be by there later. When I came in, it was written all over her face. We sat down at the kitchen table and told me "Ashley, Papa has been diagnosed with lung cancer". I think I went into partial shock that night. Papa didn't smoke, he didn't work around carcinogens. I told myself that he'd be ok, and that they had caught it early, and he would be fine in a couple of months.

He came to Birmingham to see an Oncologist and was told that he had Stage IV lung cancer, and he probably didn't have long to live without chemotherapy. He agreed to try it. Life went on, except I started calling him more once he got back to Gulf Shores. I went down there in February or March I believe to help him out around the house for the weekend. When I got there that Friday night (after I went to school, went to work and then drove 3 1/2 hours to get there), I could already see the change in him. We were sitting in his living room and he said that he needed to talk to me. He told me that he wanted me to know that he loved me, he always had and always would. He said that "he was sorry he wouldn't live to see me graduate from college, get married and have children of my own". I sat there, desperately trying not to cry, and telling him that "everything would be ok". I went to go get dinner after our conversation, and I cried the whole way to the restaurant. I managed to stop the tears when I pulled into the parking lot. That weekend I went shopping for him, helped him with the laundry, and made him breakfast one night before I went to bed (granted I just made cinnamon rolls for him, but he thanked me profusely the next morning). When I left that Sunday morning, I think I cried from Foley, Al all the way up to Fort Deposit before I could make myself stop.

In Spring of 2008, my mom decided to move in with my grandfather to take care of him. It was during this time that he decided to stop the chemotherapy treatments. The doctors gave him around 5 weeks to live. I remember my mom telling me this and thinking my world was going to end. I tried to get down there as often as I could, but unfortunately I had obligations here. I was working around 40 hours a week at work, going to school 18 hours a week (which included Anatomy and it about killed me by itself), plus I had to study every night. I was in my second to last semester at UAB and had to graduate in December (if I had the grade in Anatomy that is). Monday through Friday I woke up at 6:30am to go to class, went to work around 11:00am, went back to school around 5:00pm, and would get home close to 10:00pm. I still had to eat dinner, take a shower, and study. I didn't get to bed until around 3:00am some nights. This was my schedule until December 3, 2008. I used to tell my dad that I needed to have a mental breakdown, but I couldn't find the time to fit it into my busy schedule. He would laugh and tell me that I would be fine. The one good thing that came out of all of this, was we developed a more adult relationship rather than the parent-child relationship. I'd go to the house and just talk to him for hours about random things. We grew a lot closer during this time.

That summer my mom decided that she was going to move Papa up to Birmingham. I was beyond excited. I only lived 3.8 miles from my parents and I'd be able to see my Papa more this way. I was still extremely busy with school at this point, but I made it by the house at least 2 or 3 times a week to see him. According to the doctors he shouldn't have lived this long, and I held out hope that he would be able to see me graduate on December 13, 2008. I was going to be the first person in my family with a Bachelor's Degree. I think Papa was more excited about my college education than I was at some times.

Summer turned to fall and Papa started slipping away more and more along with the changing of the leaves. It wasn't as noticeable to someone who saw him on a weekly basis, but it was happening. I was still hoping that he would make it to my college graduation that winter, but I think I always knew that he wouldn't.

My mom and dad's birthday in August and early September of that year passed. My birthday got closer and closer. Every birthday since I turned 21, Papa would tell me that I was an old maid, and Nana was married and had kid's by that age. I would laugh and tell him I wasn't an old maid in today's standards, in fact, I was perfectly normal. Every year I got that phone call. I actually missed not hearing the old maid line on my 25th birthday in 2009. I'm going to miss it this year for my 26th birthday.

September 25th was on a Thursday in 2008. My dad and mom took me out to dinner to one of my favorites: Ichibans. After dinner we went to the house for cake, coffee and presents. We opened presents in Papa's room (since he was not getting out of the hospital bed at this point). I don't remember if he gave me anything on that birthday but I remember the birthday card. I'm pretty sure that I knew deep down it would be last card I got from grandfather, and I treasured it. I tried not to cry, because I never wanted him to see me cry. My mom took a picture of him and me that night (which is now that last one ever taken of us).

Papa and me: 9/25/2008

Three days later on Saturday (9/27/2009) my dad called to tell me that Papa had taken a turn for the worse. I started crying once I got off the phone with him. I was almost having a full blown panic attack. I had always known that this day would come, but surely it couldn't be here already I thought. I called a friend and he he got me to be more calm and told me that I needed to go over there. If I didn't, I would never forgive myself.

I didn't want to face what was happening around me, but if I didn't, I knew that everyday I would regret my decision not to be there. He was asleep when I got there, so I held his hand for a little while. He woke up a little while later and I talked him into drinking a milkshake. I went and made it for him, and I actually got him to drink most of it. He was starting to sleep more, almost in a semi-coma at some points. On Wednesday (10/1/08) around noon he went into a coma, and he would never wake up. I went over there every night that week. I'd just sit next to his hospital bed and hold his hand. Sometimes I would cry and sometimes I would drift off to sleep. On Thursday night (10/2) I stayed with him until around 11:00 that night. Friday morning I still had to go to work. I didn't want to go to work, but I had to. My dad started calling me around noon that day asking me to get over to the house. Every time I asked my boss I heard: "Let me do this, and then I'll let you leave". Now that I look back on that day, I think I was in a trance, just going through the motions. Around 2:30-ish, my dad called me for the last time and said "you need to get here now". I walked out to my car and told my co-worker that I had to leave now, and I'd call later. I drove over there, and reached the house around 3:00pm. I walked into his room and took his hand. My mother told him "Look Daddy, Ashley's here". Not even one minute later, my wonderful grandfather took his last breath while I held his hand and cried. I hugged him and didn't really want to let him go, but after a while, my dad took my hand and took me out into the living room.

That weekend is a blur...I don't remember much of anything really. In fact, the next thing I remember is his graveside memorial service on October 6th. I vaguely remember getting ready that morning and leaving for the service. I do remember feeling as if I was floating out of my body that day. I didn't cry, I sat there, somewhat "removed" from the whole thing. There are two things that stick out in my mind that day: It took the Honor Guard freaking forever to fold the flag, and hearing "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes.

10/6/08: Papa's Funeral

At my grandmother's funeral (in September of 1993) they had Amazing Grace played on the bag pipes. The guy started the song and then walked over the hill in the cemetery still playing. I was only 9 at the time, but I remember that like it was yesterday.

It was done the same at Papa's funeral. It wasn't the same guy, but it had the same effect on me. I get butterflies in my stomach and teary eyed when I hear "Amazing Grace" now. I don't remember that much from his memorial service in Gulf Shores on October 8th. I remember meeting a lot of his friends from church. They all told me he always talked about me and would always show off the picture of me he had in his wallet. The most significant thing that sticks out in my mind was walking around his house the day I left. I knew I would never step foot in his house again. I don't think it really hit me until that point. My grandfather was gone, and I would never see him or hear his voice again.

I graduated from the University of Alabama at Birmingham on December 13, 2008. I received a Bachelors in Psychology (with a minor in Criminal Justice). It was one of the proudest moments of my life. My mom, dad, grandmother, Aunt Mary and my adopted brother Shane were there to see me walk. I just wish Papa had lived to see me walk across that stage (in an awful color of green), shake the President of the University's hand, walk back to my seat, and then throw my hat at the end. I know he would have been so proud of me. After the ceremony, my mom, dad, and Aunt went back to my parent's house for dinner. Afterwards we sat in the den talking. My mom pulled out a card and handed it to me. Before Papa passed he bought me a graduation card, and put into words how proud he was of me and he signed it. Needless to say, I started crying. There were more cards and a very nice present I received that night, but none of it means as much to me as the card that Papa left for me. It's locked tight in my safe (along with all the other cards I saved, his letters, the letters I wrote him, his cuff links, his tie pin, his lion ring, and his Celtic cross necklace he gave me). These are probably my most prized possessions.

"Amazing Grace" has a special folder on my iPod (along with Frank Sinatra and Johnny Cash) that is appropriately named "Papa". I very rarely listen to these songs, I can no longer watch Casablanca, and I want to cry on Thanksgiving when my dad and I pull on the wishbone. . I tried to watch Casablanca in early 2009, and almost immediately had a panic attack. Papa gave me his special edition DVD set of the movie, but it's tucked away in my storage unit, and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to watch it again. The past two Thanksgivings my dad has cut the turkey, and him and I pull on the wishbone. 2008 was probably the hardest, I almost didn't want to do it, but in the end I did. 2009 was not as bad, but my heart ached when we pulled.

Almost everyday I wish that I had spent more time with my Papa. I miss his random ramblings about prohibition, his time in the Army and all the things he witnessed in his long life. I will admit that I call my grandmother at least once a week now and talk to her.

I just hope Papa knows that he meant the world to me, he always will. I was lucky enough to have a very special man for a grandfather. I love you.

~~Ash