Well, it's been another month since I posted, and alot has happened. I still haven't been able to make myself write about this past summer, but something happened about a week ago, and I realized I had to.
You see, my grandfather died this summer. I got a phone call from my Mom towards the end of May, telling me Papaw (my dad's dad) was in the hospital again. He was on a repirator because his lungs had collapsed, and he had kidney failure. She said if I wanted to see him again before he passed, I needed to go then. That was Monday. I waited until Tuesday, to hear back from my Mom about what was going on (the docs were going to try dialysis), and made the decision to hit the road by myself )NBS couldn't get out of work) for the 8 hour drive. Unsure that my car would make the whole trip, I made arrangements for my brother and sister-in-law to meet me in Dallas, half way, leave my car there, and ride with them the rest of the way. We met in Dallas on Wednesday, mid-afternoon, and drove to my mother-in-law's to drop off my car. We loaded everything in their car (another Neon, just newer), and headed back to the Interstate, but 3/4 of the way across the lake, the car stopped. We could not get it started again, so Jennifer and I had to get out and push the car the rest of the way across the bridge, up a hill, and into the parking lot for a marina (we did have one guy stop and help us push). To make a long story a little shorter, the car was taken to a garage for Jennifer's brother to work on, and we stayed with my in-laws overnight. The next day we waited for their car to be fixed, but by 1pm there was no progress. So, we loaded my Neon back up and headed out.
We made it to the hospital about 9pm Thursday, and I sang hymns with family members in Papaw's hospital room. He had not woken up or opened his eyes in a couple of days, but seemed to respond somewhat, his head turning towards people when they spoke or sang to him. I had someone go back to the car to get my flute so I could play for him. A couple of people expressed concern over disturbing other patients because of the late hour, but I didn't really care. He always enjoyed listening to me play, or sing, or any of his grandkids perform. I played for awhile, and after putting my flute away, I went back to my parents' house to shower and change. Papaw seemed to be doing better, and we thought he would make it through the night, despite having been off all of his machines since the morning. I went back to the hospital around 1am, to be there to support my Dad, my aunt, and Mamaw, as most of the rest of the family had gone home or settled into lounges around the hospital. My grandmother was sitting alone in a chair next to Papaw when I got there, so my Uncle (who had brought me back) went to look for everyone else, and I settled in a chair across the room to stay with Mamaw and Papaw. My Dad and Aunt Cassie made it back to the room around 1:30, and stood on either side of the bed talking, pretty much cataloguing family members, where they were, etc. When they had accounted for everyone, Papaw breathed loudly..........and stopped. He knew everyone was taken care of, and he could go.
Friday was for arrangements, Saturday was for a private family viewing at the funeral home, complete with Mamaw wearing Papaw's wedding band kept on her finger by a white ribbon around the wrist. She was celebrating their 57th Anniversary. Sunday was spent between the house (parsonage) and the church. My Father is currently pastoring a church in Arkansas that my Grandfather retired from 15 years ago, after 17 years there. My parents live in the house I visited Mamaw & Papaw in when I was a child. The rose bush in the courtyard is the one my grandparents planted the first year they lived there. So many memories for all of us........ Monday night was the public viewing at the church, and my Mom, my brother, my sister-in-law, and myself were going to provide music. Tensions were high between all of us, and Jennifer and I argued about how to play something to the point that she and my brother left early, and she broke her flute throwing it across the living room when they got home. Tuesday was a small, family burial followed by the memorial service at First Baptist (my dad's church wasn't big enough for the attendance). My grandmother was adamant that Papaw was not having a Funeral. We were having a Celebration of his Life. Considering he spent 55 years as a minister, there was much to celebrate. I sang, and my brother played his sax, but neither Jennifer nor I played our flutes. We argued on the way back to Dallas the following day, and are just now on firmer ground six months later.
I spent all summer going to summer school, taking classes in Flute Literature and Flute Pedagogy, but a week and a half ago when I played my flute at church, was the first time I even opened the case since returning from Arkansas the first week of June. Part of my still wants to play all the time, but I just can't seem to make myself pick it up. Maybe tomorrow I will, but who knows?