death happens

I had hoped to not have to post about death and grieving in this blog, but the reality is that death happens. My Pappaw (mom's father) passed away on Wednesday night after he had suffered a heart attack on Monday evening, leaving him in critical condition.

The pain hit me hard, although I prepared myself for him to die, not to pull through. Pappaw was a strong, strong person. A true southern cowboy, with a teddy bear interior (that only few saw!). Thinking he would pull through was natural instinct, but I forced myself to think the opposite because of what last year brought me. It was best that I prepared for the worst, and in this instance, it was for the better.

Casey and I met up in Memphis on Thursday and drove into Paragould, Arkansas. I wanted to see my Mammaw so badly. A women who was with this man for 64 years. I cannot even fathom the loss she feels. Her health has gotten pretty bad and my Pappaw would do practically everything for her. An example being, she said one night "who's going to take me to Pizza Inn? He would sit me down and bring me pizza. We did this once a week (said with a heavy southern accent)." Imagine hearing that. My heart broke. It's still bleeding a bit as I think through the loneliness she will endure. She cannot see. She can walk, but sometimes it's a bit shaky. He was her rock. He was her best friend. She told someone that she lost not just her husband, but best friend.

Not only was my family (uncles, aunts, cousins, mom, sister, etc.) here to grieve, we were also here to remember what an amazing Husband, Daddy and Pappaw he was. A celebration of sorts. We laughed often, but cried just as much. His presence was BIG and damn you could feel it vanished in their house. He did everything loudly, slamming doors, sneezing, walking in his cowboy boots, laughing and talking overall. The house felt different. I missed hugging him. He gave great big, strong hugs.

I am having a hard time leaving. I want my Mammaw to be okay. She has people coming to stay with her and my mom and cousin are coming back next week when she moves into an Assisted Living facility, that I hear is really nice. But that's not her home. Her home was with Pappaw. She knows she cannot look after herself, but I know it causing her so much pain.

I had a fear of seeing him in the casket, but I handled it much better than I thought I would. I went up to him by myself the first time and touched his ear and his suit coat. I wanted to feel him. I wanted one last touch to say goodbye. I didn't think I would be so open to a dead body, but I was. I hate to say this, but it's almost like I'm getting used to what grieving feels like. That's the only way I can truly describe what I feel. I know what to expect and the pain that comes with it. I would rather feel it, than hide my sadness.

I took a few things to remember my Pappaw by...overalls, flannel/western shirt and a western belt. He was a special man who I will miss greatly. My one wish was for him to see me walk down the wedding aisle, but I can only hope that he'll be watching from somewhere...even if he's not in the room.

RIP Pappaw. You will always be my garbage disposal :)