Week 16 - Pop Pop

This week marks one year since we said goodbye to my mom’s father, my dear Pop Pop. We surrounded him in his last days, fulfilling his wishes and genuinely laughing at his jokes. He was strong-minded until the last moment, snapping witty comments and maintaining a grip on the remote control. I cannot adequately describe those last days, because they are of the variety that is so close to my heart that I cannot back up enough to see them clearly.

Jessica and I drove down to central Delaware to be with our Mom, at her semi-request. It was a read-between-the-lines kind of request, but we heard the plea for our support loud and clear. The visit was supposed to be a couple of hours so that we did not interrupt Pop Pop’s rest. Then he asked that all of his children come as soon as they could.

As the house filled with our aunts, uncles and cousins, Grandma Nancy filled the tables and breakfast bar with food and wine. We rotated from sitting beside Pop Pop, picking at the food and consoling each other. The day reeked of the impending, but we tried to laugh as much as we cried.

One of the most poignant moments for me was standing in Pop Pop’s bedroom with him when one of my uncles arrived.

“Oh good, you’re here.” I sighed.

He flew to the edge of his dad’s bed, grabbed one of the older hands with a younger, matching version, and said, “I should have said this a long time ago. I love you, Dad…” I left the room as he finished the soliloquy.

When all seven of his children, three daughters-in-law, and a sample of his grandchildren were present, Grandma Nancy ushered us into the bedroom she had shared with Pop Pop since their retirement over twenty years previous. We had communion, cried and sang hymns as Pop Pop lie there, taking it all in. Grandma Nancy hovered over him and said, “Oh, thank you everyone, thank you so much for being here.”

Pop Pop had cautiously sipped his wine with all of us during communion, but during a lull in the tears and song, he suddenly sat himself up, said, “The Lord said drink his wine!” and emptied the glass.

“Oh, bless his heart.” Grandma Nancy muttered as we shared an appreciative laugh.

It has been one year since my mom left the tearful message on my voicemail at work, “Your Pop Pop is gone, hon. He died a few minutes ago” and I mumbled something to my boss and hurried home. I found my sister sitting on the steps in my apartment sobbing and had nothing to do for her but sit down and do the same. It has been a year since I began to realize that death is a part of life and there is no escaping or fully understanding it. It has been a year since I have held firmer to my belief of Heaven and the promise that Jesus left us.

As this new life grows within me, and I can sometimes feel the onion-size body moving, I cannot help but remember what is most significant in life. Those final days and moments of life are not consumed by anything but our love for each other. The only regrets involve the grace and kindness we did not give. The treasures are those acts of love that we did give.

“May your soul be blessed, may your body rest on the mountain where you were born,may your spirit soar, where there's joy ever more, may you find your way in peace.”
(Mark’s Song / Eastmountainsouth)