Cancer Round One: Papaw in On The Topic Of nothing:

I awoke to the sound of my mom saying “do you all have covers on you?” on Saturday morning. I yelled “yea, come on in.” she didn’t respond. I got up to put my sweats on and walked into the kitchen. I saw my buddy in the recliner, dad sitting on the couch, and mom leaned up on the arm of the couch nearest my bedroom. As soon as I saw her I knew something had happened. I had already braced myself to hear about my grandmother. It wasn’t her. She told me my papaw had passed away earlier that morning. I ask her what happened. She didn’t know. I told her I would take a shower and I’d head toward salt lick.

I text my girlfriend and told her what had happened. I got in the shower still taking in the news I had just received, it didn’t seem real. I stood there letting the water run down my back as I tried to remember the last time I saw him. Was it last Thanksgiving? Or was it the previous summer when my aunt had passed away? I couldn’t remember. I stood there until the water got cold. I got dressed and walked into the living room and told my buddy I had to go.

I got in the car and drove to my girlfriend’s. I walked into her house and I met her mom and granny coming out of the house. Her grandmother looked at me and told me she was sorry about my papaw. When I saw my girlfriend she gave me a big hug and ask me if I was ok. I was at that moment.

We got to where my family was staying and took a 75-foot walk through a swamp to the front door. We walked in and my granny was lying on the couch in her post-cancer 1000 yard stare. Dad was sitting in his recliner spouting his crap about something. Mom was sitting in the red recliner with tear filled eyes. Dad said “don’t you think you should go see them?” and mom said, “I guess.” I told her we could go check on the house while we were up there.

We make the drive to papaws house and mom is reminiscing about the old days. She told us about the day I was born, they had broken beans all night the night before and my papaw had told her “now don’t you come knocking on my door in the morning.” and that’s exactly what happened, dad had just left for work and mom had to go up the road to Mamaw and Papaw’s place because her water had broken. She told us how that my granny got stuck on in a construction zone on the way to the hospital, and that dad never could pick me out in the nursery.

We got to papaws place and we walked into the front door and that’s when it really hit home for me seeing his empty recliner where he had passed away not eight hours before. There was a room full of people.

Papaw’s current wife told us what had happened:
He had gone in for his first chemo treatment the day before. He had a reaction to the chemo but the people at the hospital got it under control and continued his treatment. Later that day they had stopped in mount sterling for a big mac. She said he ate the whole thing. After they had gotten home he was joking, happy, and talkative. Her son said it was the most like himself he had been in the last two months. they had gone to bed at 10 pm. shortly thereafter he had woken up saying he wasn’t getting any oxygen through his hose so she turned it up. He laid back down for a bit and then he woke up complaining of back pain and being hot. She took his temperature and it was 96 and he went to sit in his recliner. 10 minutes later she went to put a pillow behind his head and he didn’t respond. They tried to wake him up but nothing. So she called an ambulance.

It was sort of comforting to me that he was happy and joking the night before. The whole time we’re sitting there I kept running through the story she had just told us in my mind. She told us she was going to the funeral home that evening and we should come. We had to leave after that because we had to check the other house.

On the way home mom kept telling my girlfriend things about her family. She told her about the log cabins the family had built on the property. She told us about riding horses every Sunday with my Mamaw and papaw when she was going up. She told us about a young couple she saw when she was a kid that was packing a gallon of milk out in the middle of nowhere. She said she never understood that.

We got home and we checked out the house and I gathered all the photo albums I could get my hands on. I found a whole stack of albums that ranged from the ’40s to the mid-’90s.

We left home and we drove to the funeral home. I was thinking maybe this was something I should experience since my granny was in such bad shape. We walked in and everyone was sitting around. The funeral director was sitting there with a stack of papers. It was all about the cash. He tried to mix in condolences but it didn’t work for me. He was there for one reason. “Do you want this?” “Do you want that?” “Do you want coffin spray?” “That’s a real thing???” after five minutes of funeral plans he ask about pallbearers. Papaw’s current wife said how about the grandson’s and some of his fishing buddies. We all walked into a back room and looked at caskets. We passed a few sitting out in the showroom, as we walked past those we went into a smaller showroom that only had corner pieces to the caskets. As she made her choice she turned to mom and ask if that was alright. After a few minutes we all walked back into the small room we were in prior to making plans. “Where does he want to be buried?” “He wants to be buried next to his Husband in law…”
I thought to myself “husband in law? What’s this shit?” A few seconds later My girlfriend had her hand on my back and I felt her start grasping for me. I looked down at her and her pupils were huge. She was shaking all over, struggling to stand. I grabbed a hold of her and took her into the back room and sit her in one of the chairs. One of the daughter-in-laws went and got her a drink and a wet paper towel. A few clammy minutes went by and she came back to normal. I’m not sure if her sugar dipped too low or what but it was terrifying. She was embarrassed but truth be told it was something to think about other than my papaws passing.

Later we found out that two of my papaws oldest fishing buddies didn’t want to be pallbearers. That was understandable considering they were in bad shape themselves but when asked about being honoree pallbearers they refused that as well. There’s a photo that sits in my family’s living room for nearly 28 years of one of the men, my papaw, and me looking at a very large musky. It was strange to me that they wouldn’t even be an honoree pallbearer for my papaw, I mean they didn’t even have to do anything.

We came back to the place my family was staying and I hung around for a little bit to kind of support mom. We didn’t stay too terribly long. The man in charge of the funeral home told me if I could get him some photos by the next morning, he would add them to a slideshow for the funeral. My girlfriend and I went back home. We stopped by the library. We started watching The Founder and eventually, my buddy showed up. I scanned photo after photo of my papaw. I saw lots of photos I had never seen before. With each photo, I scanned I began to create a different dynamic of a man that I had never seen before. We were close for maybe five years of my life. He was a part of my mom’s life for 54 years. He was a part of my granny’s life right up until their marriage collapsed. I knew him for 5 short little happy fishing and dog-filled years. I had come to the realization that I didn’t really know the man we’re going to bury in the next few days. The man I had known and had fond memories of was from 28 years prior. He was what I could only assume was a broken man who was going through a divorce. This current version had a life and a family of his own.

We spent several hours scanning that night. What had started out as a panicked race to get some photos turned into a really comforting almost therapeutic process.

Monday rolled around and it was the night of the visitation. The family came in at 5 PM. We arrived and mom stood over the casket quite a while looking down at him. I pulled her close, and my girlfriend pulled us both closer. The crowds started rolling in way too soon I thought.

Two of the first few people to walk in were the two fishing buddies that didn’t want to be pallbearers. They came up to my mom and myself and told us how much he meant to them. In the back of my mind, I was thinking he meant so much you didn’t even want to be a part of his funeral? That’s strange to me.

During the visitation, we really weren’t quite sure what to do. Do we sit down? Do we stand there and greet? Mom, My girlfriend, and I stood there in front of the casket talking to people. In the beginning, I was kind of thrown off by the whole process it made me feel terrible to be standing up there. As the night went on I felt the visitation to be more of a healing process. At time’s I would catch myself feeling angry. A lot of his wife’s family came up and talk to us having no clue who we were. Mom would introduce herself as the daughter and me as the grandson. The most pleasant people that came and saw him were his family and my grandmother’s family. They were so nice and didn’t have to explain ourselves to them with the exception of the ones who knew me but hadn’t seen me in 25 years. After they remembered I was greeted with a smile, a hug, and condolences. The whole night I heard “he liked to aggravate people if he didn’t like you he wouldn’t aggravate you.” Mom asks one man if he aggravated him and the man replied “no not really, but he always aggravated my wife.” My girlfriend and I just looked at each other and grinned. One man came up and said he had ridden my papaw’s school bus when he was a driver. He said that the “their bus” had beaten one of the other buses when he was riding once. One lady came up and said, “I’m the reason they met ya know…” “If it hadn’t been for me He never would have met his wife” “me and his wife go way back.” she didn’t seem to give a shit who we were but at least we knew who she was… she kept saying she was the reason my papaw married his current wife and mom said “I think once was enough” talking about my granny. I was glad she said it… I remember the preacher of the church came up at some point and he said something about wet willies and how many I had gotten. I responded with a slight laugh and a “yea… lots…” but truth be told I don’t think I ever received a wet willie from him. I think that’s something he picked up after my five years with him. Someone had brought up that my papaw had another brother. No one seemed to know about that brother. They said that it was my great grandmothers first born and they had lost him to sids very young. I found that interesting. Her son walked up to me at some point during the visitation and told me my papaw had a gun that he wanted me to have. It was one that belonged to his papaw. I guess that would make the 6th generation to have it. I found to be so distasteful for him to come up and talk about that stuff at the visitation. I mean the man’s laying not more than 3 feet away and you’re already talking about his stuff… Frankly, I don’t care about his stuff. Sure I’d like to have something of his to remember him by but that was neither the time nor the place… as the night came to a close a large man walked up who turned out to be “The ex-husbands” brother. He said, “yea I’m the one who started calling them husband-in-law.” I thought to myself “so you’re the guy that can go eat a bag of dicks…” we left the church with heavy tear-filled eyes, and made our slow silent drive back home.

The next morning my girlfriend and I arrived where my parents were staying to pick mom up for the funeral. I found out no one was going to be staying with my granny because my dad was going with us. I didn’t like the idea as bad off as she was, but it was only going to be a couple hours. We left her laying on the couch with my dog by her side. We arrived at the church and girlfriend had to remind me to put my good shoes on, I kept forgetting to take my mud waders off… we walked inside and was greeted by a big room with a few people standing around and my papaw was the centerpiece in his casket. We moved toward the front of the room and mom began to sob. I’m pretty good about keeping my composure but when my mom cries it strikes something buried deep inside of me. I couldn’t help but tear up. My girlfriend was rubbing both of our backs while dad stared off into nothing. He doesn’t do well with loss. As I’m hugging mom I found out that I wouldn’t be allowed to sit with her since I was a pallbearer. I was thinking to myself “please god let my girlfriend sit next to my mother and not dad.” once the funeral had begun I looked over and to my relief my girlfriend was sitting next to her. A family friend preached the first half of the funeral. He started by singing Beulah land which was apparently my papaws favorite church song. Then he got up and told about this book he had in his hands. It was a little black book that he wrote down every funeral and wedding he performed. My papaw was in both sections of the book. Two of the church members stepped up to sing a song and I was sitting there looking at them, one a heavyset dude and the other a smaller white-headed man. They began to sing and the smaller white-headed man had a voice that didn’t match at all. Then the bigger guy began to sing. I honestly couldn’t believe the sound that was coming out of that man. I’ll be the first to admit he sounded a lot better than he looked! Then the preacher came up to talk he talked about wet willies and his “husband in law” and all I could think is how much I wish that could die…

As the Funeral came to a close the people sitting behind us started coming forward to take their final look at him. Occasionally someone would grab my shoulder and give it a squeeze. It really meant a lot at the time. Others would skip over me and tell the other “grandchildren” how sorry they were for their loss… I don’t remember seeing them shed a single tear. Every time I heard mom sobbing I couldn’t handle myself. I’d start crying and then I’d have to regain a little bit of composure again because I had a job to do, I was a pallbearer. When mom walked up to the casket my girlfriend was with her and she broke down. I got up and I hugged her and dad made a beeline for the church doors… a few minutes later the pallbearers were instructed to take their final moments with my papaw and head toward the exit. Everyone just kind of glanced at him lying there and passed him by but I couldn’t, I needed a minute. Every time I teared up I wasn’t thinking about the man lying there I was thinking about the man who was holding my mother in those old photographs, the man that pulled me and my dog in the wagon when I was a child. I was feeling sorrow for a man that may be a handful of people in that entire room knew. I started to walk toward the exit and I took one last look back right before they closed the casket and I knew that was the last time I was ever going to set eyes on him in human form.

We drove to the cemetery in silence. I was worried about my pallbearer duties since it had been raining for a month straight and we’re going to have to carry my papaw up a muddy embankment. Dad was the first one to say anything “It’s an awfully pretty day for December isn’t it?” I responded with a “yea…” I knew he couldn’t take the silence. After he spoke the first time he kept saying weird little generic statements and I responded with “yea…” each time. We passed a field full of Clydesdales one looked extra majestic in the afternoon sun as the procession passed by. We got to the small roadside cemetery and the pallbearers lined up. I thought they were going to back the hursh up the hill but they didn’t. We carried the casket about 150 feet up a steep muddy hill in dress shoes. The guy that dug the grave came down to help us. He said, “if you start to fall make sure and let go of the casket” which was an unthinkable possibility to me. We got the casket positioned over the skids and we all stepped back to listen to the service. It was short. They started handing out the flowers from my papaws casket, his wife took one. My mom passed her flower up. One of the daughters-in-law stepped up behind me and said: “why don’t you get one of those for your mom, she might change her mind later.” So I did. After the service, I felt the calm come over me. The kind that you have when you’re still morning but the hard part is over. Almost sort of an uneasy relief. Your eyes are red, and your heart is aching but you don’t have to think about the funeral anymore.

As we drove back to the house my mom talked about how she thought it looked like the Clydesdale had stopped moving to look at the funeral procession. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who had noticed.