EPT
The third oldest was my uncle Eric who was taken rather suddenly some years ago. I say sudden in that it all happened within a few weeks, but at the same time; we were given a chance to say our goodbyes, which is a privilege that many people are not granted in this world. Some of us chose to be in the room when they shut off the ventilator. I was one of the few that wanted to be there for a number of reasons. One was because I feel that as much as we can control, we should try to never let people die alone. They are facing death, the scariest thing in the world alone; why not try to send them off amidst loved ones if you can?
While we were not particularly close, many in the family did not want to be there, including his wife and children. None of my cousins wanted to be in the room either, so another reason I went was to be the sole representative from my generation of the family. While watching a proud man die with dignity is not something that we should feel "honored" to be a part of, it was an experience that I will forever remember and be glad that I made the decision that I did. It is one of the few times in my life that I have seen my father cry.
Where 8 once were, 7 remained.
Not long after that, the 5th in line, my aunt Helen started losing her battle with cancer. The final months were hard and she was in a lot of pain. In the last couple weeks she stopped seeing all of the family except one sister which she allowed to come see her at the hospice home. In those days she said she did not want anyone to see her as sick as she was at the time, but remember her for the cheerful person she used to be. Open cancer sores are not something that anyone would want to see anyway.
Her battle was on and off for many years, but her body could no longer hold out. She and I were never terribly close either, but she was an interesting character from what I remember. I attended the funeral, not the burial though as the wake was at our house so I decided to go back to the house and help get things ready.
We were now down to 6 of an original 8.
Since that time, the 7th in line, my aunt Christy, has fought and beat her battle with cancer, at least for now. My father was diagnosed with terminal pulmonary fibrosis, which I have gone into in past blogs and will go into a bit more later, the 6th in line, my Uncle Fred, has been diagnosed with it as well, and the youngest, #8, has also fought with cancer.
We just learned that my aunt Ro, that little number 8, is losing her battle and losing it fast. We all thought that my father would be next as he is not expected to last out the year, so this is a bit of a shock. The two oldest, who happen to be the healthiest of them all, are going to fly out to see her next weekend, but we fear she may not make it that long. She asked all of us to write letters to her two sons, telling them more about her as a person. I feel horrible that since she moved away when I was rather young, I don't have too much to say to grant her wish. I have never even met her two sons, my two cousins, but I do wish them well.
She was able to talk to my father a bit today over the internet. It is too bad my parents can't make it out to see her one last time, but life is like that sometimes. She is fading, deaf, and hooked up to all sorts of machines. She was able to tell my Dad not to worry because she would see him in Heaven, which made all of them start crying. It seems to me that she really implied a "soon" there due to his declining health, but did not say it. I am glad that she didn't. Nothing gets to me more than seeing people face death. You see true human spirit at that time and while utterly frightening, there is something in it that I feel makes the rest of us stronger.
My father is in a state where his fibrosis is so severe that he is on constant oxygen and has had pneumonia 3 times already this year. They say that the next time he has to go into the hospital; he is probably not making it out. Any morning he could wake up and have to go in at this point.
We will soon be down to 4.
...
It is weird to me. Not death as a whole, but until right now, this moment that I am typing this, I have come to this realization that for me the death of my family's elder statesmen seems like one of my last links to childhood. Like I mentioned before, we were never really close, but we were together quite a bit when I was little. I am now 31 and it seems that while I am a complete adult in many ways, those final strings to the tapestry of my childhood are fading away, leaving room for me to weave new ones with my son and my wife's family.
I am now one of the elders, been around the block for quite a while, and there is an entirely new generation below me of nephews, nieces, and smaller cousins. Their lives are so new and I hope that while some of us are not close, they still can have positive memories of me from their childhood. I hope that I can continue to live a life to be proud of...
...and I hope that someday newer generations will look fondly of my generation as we looked fondly to the one before.
Here are the first two entries that I wrote about my father:
+ Show Spoiler +
