Confessions

 

July 29th, 2017

The dry, Summer sun was cascading its light harshly upon the Smokey Mountains. The magnificent peaks illuminated against the blue canvas of the sky. Twisting, turning, climbing, falling was the well-worn path of I-40, and so were our stomachs.

As glorious as any mountain range can be – if one is prone to motion sickness, it typically makes for a long day. Such was the nature of my sister and I’s drive up and down the “Blue Ridge parkway.”

We were on our way to visit our dearly loved grandparents. They had lived in the valley of the Smokey mountains for almost twenty years and were only a short skip away from Winston-Salem.

The Town of Hayesville has always been surrounded by the high hills but doesn’t really find itself close to much else. What else would you expect from a town of less than 400?

Every visit, our family would inevitably find ourselves hunting down the nearest Wal-Mart (a brisk thirty-minute drive mind you), the Chatuge Dam, and even the local ice cream shop; those trips always served as a brief reprieve from the mundane happenings of the town. No matter what was on the agenda, there was always a measure of peace that swept the clutter out of your mind.

For twenty years, our family frequented Hayesville with the expectation of beautiful scenery, traditions, and maybe even a trip to the Nantahala River for lunch.

And for the first time in twenty years, that anticipation had waned. There was nothing bright or beautiful waiting for my sister and me on the other side of those mountains.

We awoke that morning with the solemn expectation that this could very well be the last time we would ever speak to our grandfather.

Almost a year prior to this date, they found a blood-sucking cancer living within his bones…A form of Leukemia. Doctors were never blunt with us on his life expectancy, but they informed us that this was his death bell.

His health slowly deteriorated over a span of eight months causing him to lose the ability to walk, to breathe fully, and even at one point, the ability to talk. His bones were sucking the blood from his vital organs, but nothing was replenishing what was taken.

A horrific way to live.

Here we were, my sister and me, along with her relative newborn, going to say goodbye to a man who had been a constant presence in both of our lives from the day we were born. We knew he was going soon because he had not but a few days before, been taken to the hospital when one of his lungs failed.

Our four-hour drive culminated in a long, uphill climb to the hospital which sat on a hill overlooking Hiawassee, Georgia. The stench of hospital fumes wafted out of the front door as we walked in – stroller in hand, baby in carriage, and the heavy expectation in our hearts.

The white corridors stretched with every step we took. It was as if the closer we got, the farther we walked away. Eternity finally gave way to reality when a soft knock was placed upon the door in which he was resting.

Our mother gracefully, yet quietly swung the door open, and if for only a moment, life seemed normal. Our hugs and hello’s were hushed as we stepped through the doorway into the hospital room.

It was nothing anyone hadn’t seen before. Quaint room with accented walls…The steady beeping of machinery…The faint smell of bleach. And yet, with all of my previous experiences of working in hospitals and visiting sick loved ones, this was shocking to me.

I was startled to find my best friend lying where a stranger should be.

I took a moment to breathe in the reality of the situation…

“Hey, papa…”

Silence…

He struggled for breath, but no words came out of his mouth. He looked at me with earnest, loving, yet panicked eyes. He was in so much pain.

“He can’t breathe..and every breath he takes is agonizing pain.”

My mom had been with him and my grandmother from the beginning. Seeing her daddy like this was tearing her apart.

Sadness began taking over my heart as I sat down next to his bed. I looked at him and tried to flash a brief smile. I placed my hand on his leg hoping it would provide a spell of comfort.

“Is he conscious?”

“Seems to be. He’s been responding to us if he can muster the strength.”

I just wanted to know if my own grandfather recognized me.

We sat for the next three hours chatting, trying to laugh, and just staring into the distance. He never spoke a word…

I began noticing that something was different with how he was laying and breathing. His gasps became quicker and shorter. He winced every time he breathed in.

“Is he ok, momma?”

She took quick notice and tried asking him if he was ok. No response.

Shortly after, the nurses came in, called a few specialists, and before we knew it, the room began to fill. Not only was the room filling, but my nephew was getting irritated. He had been cooped up in a car all morning, and now a dark hospital room all afternoon.

“We need to leave soon…”

My sister knew we had a four-hour drive back, and the way he was screaming told us it wasn’t going to be peaceful.

My heart was desperate as they wheeled my grandfather into the ICU. They didn’t tell us directly, but his other lung had begun failing. My grandmother had gone home earlier in the day to rest but was now careening her way to the hospital.

I took my now screaming nephew outside to hopefully calm him down while my sister went in to say goodbye to my mom and grandpa. A few moments later, I found myself slowly walking into the ICU.

I knew this was it. I had seen death before…Far too many times and I knew what was coming. He wouldn’t make it through the weekend.

I stepped away from his bed and wept…Never have I felt such sorrow in my soul. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay by his side until he went to see Jesus, but I knew I couldn’t.

Through teary eyes, I bent down to squeeze him one more time.

My grandmother came rushing in…We thought she would raise hell with the doctors, but she made a beeline for my grandfather. Her words, to this day, continue to haunt me…

“You can go home now. It’s ok. Go be with Jesus.”

He mustered up the strength to kiss her and I walked out the door.

Tears streaming down my face, my sister and I packed up the car and began the trip home.

3 hours after we had left, my father called me at 7:19pm…

“He’s gone.”

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