I moved up to crescent city to be by my grandfathers side. He was dying and his family hadnt told me. My grandfather isnt blood related to me and in all fact he was no longer my grandfather since my grandmother divorced him when i was really young. But i never really took that under consideration because to me he was my grandfather. no matter what.
When i was little he spoiled me with soda and push pop icecream. It was our tradition to stop at gas stations and get one each time we saw each other. I remember the many times he took me to The Apple Peddler and we ate our fill there. That was his "second home" and everyone there knew him. My grandfather and grandmother raised me for a small part of my life and are the two people in my family i got along with for most of my life now. I loved him with all my heart.
Papa ((thats what i called him)) fell ill about three to four years ago. It was shortly after i got back in contact with my father that i was able to see him again in years. He was happy to see me and i was happy to see him but i noticed he wasnt doing well. The most i could do at the time was tell him i loved him and wanted him to take care of himself. Three times he fell deadly ill and each of those times i asked him to take care of himself and he got up the strength to do it. My family in Eureka said it was because he knew i loved him.
One of the three times i asked him to go to the doctor and he fought with me, not wanting to do it. It was one of the first times he yelled at me, but he said sorry later. Later i found he went to the doctor after i talked to him and when i asked him what they had said he refused to tell me. It was then i was sure he had cancer. I talked to his sister afterward and we made a pact to keep in contact. Papas health decreased quickly afterward.
Two weeks ago i came up to crescent city to see my father and my papa... I kept going to his house but never once found him there, thats when i finally went to the park manager and he told me pap was in the hospital. I went and saw him, though i was pissed at his family. He was 86 pounds, but still talked and could hold my hand. Sadly it was my last day there but i promised him i would come back up in two weeks. I did, and here i am. I saw him my first day here and he was almost just bones and flesh. He could barely talk and our only way of conversation was yes or no questions where he shook his head and i talked. The next day he wasnt able to talk or even move... He had been in so much pain that he was forgetting to breath so they had to sedate him. I cried, because i had told him i would bring my uncle to him who he had wanted to talk to for so long.
Not even three days after i got here, my papa died. Sept 13 2007 at 1:00am. Tomorrows his funeral and i will stand strong, for him. For the man that loved me with all his heart, though his family hated me.
 Ishira Tsubasa · Sat Sep 15, 2007 @ 12:47am · 3 Comments |
