Squirt
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 13, 2000
- Messages
- 2,899
Dedicated to all those in my family who are no longer here, and hopefully inspiring others to remember those they have lost as well.
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Summer, 1991
Mom and I drove up to Dayton, Ohio that summer to visit her parents. Her mother, Drummy as i called her, had leukemia. I remember pulling out of their driveway to come home to Atlanta and seeing the look on her face. She knew.
October, 1991
We all went to Dayton that October for the funeral. I remember being asked to say grace at dinner the night we got in town; talking about how much we were going to miss Drummy; being shushed by my Mom so I didn't upset my grandfather, Pa Bull.
Christmas, 1991
Pa Bull came down for Christmas that year. I remember seeing Drummy's name on the "From:" part of a few gift tags, and the sorrowful look on his face as he read her name. I was ten.
March, 1992
I was at extended day after school and Dad picked me up earlier than I expected him to. I was getting something out of my book bag at my feet when he blurted it out. "Pa Bull died today." It took a number of seconds to click in my head what he just said. I remember flying up and meeting my mom at her old house, tears flowing all around. Pa Bull's heart was broken.
Summer, 1992
I had driven up with Mom to Dayton again. Her aunt, Aunt Helen, had liver cancer. She was in a hospus. I remember playing the piano in the lobby, knowing that Aunt Helen could hear me down the hall, knowing that was the last night I would see her. I remember hiding in the bathroom the next day when we got the call.
Summer, 1997
We went to Louisville and met up with the other seven members of my family at my dad's mom's, Nanine's, condo. Papa, Dad's father, was stricken with cancer and sat on the guest room bed; pale, weak, underweight, and confused as to what was going on, and why everyone was saying goodbye and how much they loved him. I remember saying my goodbyes, walking out into the hall, and meeting the arms of my cousin Jim and my mom, all seven of us shrouded in tears and knowing the ending of the story.
October, 1997
We got the call the night before. I decided I couldn't stay at home. I went to school that day and struggled through. We flew up that night. I read a poem I wrote at his funeral. I remember being so shaken up I fell down the stairs after reading it.
March, 1999
I talked to Nanine one Sunday. She told me that her sister, my dad's Aunt Kay, had died the morning before. I called Mom and Dad, asking them why they didn't tell me. I remember feeling almost numb at the funeral. I remember it being almost nothing inside, even though I knew it was something.
Most of all I remember how Pa Bull loved to give people a hard time; and his beautiful, delicate wood workings and carvings. Drummy was always so caring and thoughtful; the perfect grandmother. Aunt Helen's house always smelled like Youth Dew, Estee Lauder's first perfume, and it was always cluttered with knick knacks of every imaginable kind. Papa would sit me on his lap and we'd tickle each other to death, and he let me wear his foot massagers once in a while. Aunt Kay always kept every greeting, birthday, and holiday card given to her in the nursing home.
All the love; all the joy; all the holidays and birthdays and Easters and road trips.
To my family: thank you for such fond and wonderful memories. Nothing I could ever imagine or ask for would touch my heart more. I am eternally grateful.
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[This message has been edited by Squirt (edited 26 December 2000).]
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Summer, 1991
Mom and I drove up to Dayton, Ohio that summer to visit her parents. Her mother, Drummy as i called her, had leukemia. I remember pulling out of their driveway to come home to Atlanta and seeing the look on her face. She knew.
October, 1991
We all went to Dayton that October for the funeral. I remember being asked to say grace at dinner the night we got in town; talking about how much we were going to miss Drummy; being shushed by my Mom so I didn't upset my grandfather, Pa Bull.
Christmas, 1991
Pa Bull came down for Christmas that year. I remember seeing Drummy's name on the "From:" part of a few gift tags, and the sorrowful look on his face as he read her name. I was ten.
March, 1992
I was at extended day after school and Dad picked me up earlier than I expected him to. I was getting something out of my book bag at my feet when he blurted it out. "Pa Bull died today." It took a number of seconds to click in my head what he just said. I remember flying up and meeting my mom at her old house, tears flowing all around. Pa Bull's heart was broken.
Summer, 1992
I had driven up with Mom to Dayton again. Her aunt, Aunt Helen, had liver cancer. She was in a hospus. I remember playing the piano in the lobby, knowing that Aunt Helen could hear me down the hall, knowing that was the last night I would see her. I remember hiding in the bathroom the next day when we got the call.
Summer, 1997
We went to Louisville and met up with the other seven members of my family at my dad's mom's, Nanine's, condo. Papa, Dad's father, was stricken with cancer and sat on the guest room bed; pale, weak, underweight, and confused as to what was going on, and why everyone was saying goodbye and how much they loved him. I remember saying my goodbyes, walking out into the hall, and meeting the arms of my cousin Jim and my mom, all seven of us shrouded in tears and knowing the ending of the story.
October, 1997
We got the call the night before. I decided I couldn't stay at home. I went to school that day and struggled through. We flew up that night. I read a poem I wrote at his funeral. I remember being so shaken up I fell down the stairs after reading it.
March, 1999
I talked to Nanine one Sunday. She told me that her sister, my dad's Aunt Kay, had died the morning before. I called Mom and Dad, asking them why they didn't tell me. I remember feeling almost numb at the funeral. I remember it being almost nothing inside, even though I knew it was something.
Most of all I remember how Pa Bull loved to give people a hard time; and his beautiful, delicate wood workings and carvings. Drummy was always so caring and thoughtful; the perfect grandmother. Aunt Helen's house always smelled like Youth Dew, Estee Lauder's first perfume, and it was always cluttered with knick knacks of every imaginable kind. Papa would sit me on his lap and we'd tickle each other to death, and he let me wear his foot massagers once in a while. Aunt Kay always kept every greeting, birthday, and holiday card given to her in the nursing home.
All the love; all the joy; all the holidays and birthdays and Easters and road trips.
To my family: thank you for such fond and wonderful memories. Nothing I could ever imagine or ask for would touch my heart more. I am eternally grateful.
=====================
[This message has been edited by Squirt (edited 26 December 2000).]
