Never Forget

IBD- I will never forget Dec. 22 either.


I will also never forget a a look in my father's eyes that he kept for the last 3 months of his own father's life. Dad was dying, he knew it, and his own father was dying too, but Dad wasn't going to let his father bury another child (my uncle had passed 3 years earlier). I guess it didn't matter that my grandfather was 96 and his kids were grandparents themselves- it is never easy to lose a child, no matter the age. So it became almost a grim contest to see who could last the longest.

Anyway, my grandfather was going downhill pretty fast, and Dad kept up a look of steely determination and concentration- it took every bit of strength that he had in him. You could see it in his eyes. He would visit his dad at the nursing home, walk out of there, and practically collapse for 3 days since "putting on the show" was so exhausting for him. When my grandfather died in March of that year, you could see the look of relief in Dad's eyes- so relieved that he had spared his own father more pain and grief.

That look of determination in his eyes went away- and 3 months later, he died too. I will never forget that look, and the sheer strength of his will to live, when his being alive meant everything to a sweet little old man.

Oh, jdarg....what a touching story.

The time my dad looked me in the eye and told me he loved me. Then he died. It was my birthday and I think it was the only time I ever heard him say it.














I tell itty bitty I love her every time I speak to her.

Seeing death sweep down is not a unique experience no matter the age of the witness. I stopped going to funerals a while back. Growing up in a small town, I've attended too many. Death is a given and doesn't matter, except to the survivors. It is life which is so damn difficult and longing for attention. It is easy to remember seeing death, but how many can recall stories of life? -- My ex-father in law is a director of Hospice in a major city, and I once kidded him about losing my patience. He rebutted, "I've lost all my patients," which was his light humor in a very grim environment. Makes me think about the hundreds of patients he has lost, while trying to make their existence on Earth more tolerable. I think he once told me that his average patient's life expectancy was 10 days, from when they entered Hospice. My grandmother lived a year and a half after she was enrolled in Hospice. There are exceptions to the norm. So sad seeing so many once happy lives coming to an end, but it has helped me grow to see that there are many beautiful souls hidden under old bodies.

One of the ambulances I used to work for transported patients to the local hospice everyday. They only had 11 beds in that place and I sometimes took 3 to 4 people there everyday. It started to get very hard to do when you realize that you are one of the last faces they will ever see. I even had a few that never even made it there. They died in the ambulance with me. I had at one time the fortune of taking a 21 year old girl to Philadelphia for a lung transplant. She had Cystic Fibrosis. She had to be one of the bravest people I have ever met. We talked about her little boy and how she was not afraid to die. A few months later on a Sunday morning, I ended up doing CPR on her in her home. She never did get that transplant. She was so young, but she was no longer suffering. That was it for me. After all that, I left it all and moved down here to start over. So far, so good.

I will also never forget a a look in my father's eyes that he kept for the last 3 months of his own father's life. Dad was dying, he knew it, and his own father was dying too, but Dad wasn't going to let his father bury another child (my uncle had passed 3 years earlier). I guess it didn't matter that my grandfather was 96 and his kids were grandparents themselves- it is never easy to lose a child, no matter the age. So it became almost a grim contest to see who could last the longest.

Anyway, my grandfather was going downhill pretty fast, and Dad kept up a look of steely determination and concentration- it took every bit of strength that he had in him. You could see it in his eyes. He would visit his dad at the nursing home, walk out of there, and practically collapse for 3 days since "putting on the show" was so exhausting for him. When my grandfather died in March of that year, you could see the look of relief in Dad's eyes- so relieved that he had spared his own father more pain and grief.

That look of determination in his eyes went away- and 3 months later, he died too. I will never forget that look, and the sheer strength of his will to live, when his being alive meant everything to a sweet little old man.

Wow, what a story of determination....

IBD- I will never forget Dec. 22 either.


I will also never forget a a look in my father's eyes that he kept for the last 3 months of his own father's life. Dad was dying, he knew it, and his own father was dying too, but Dad wasn't going to let his father bury another child (my uncle had passed 3 years earlier). I guess it didn't matter that my grandfather was 96 and his kids were grandparents themselves- it is never easy to lose a child, no matter the age. So it became almost a grim contest to see who could last the longest.

Anyway, my grandfather was going downhill pretty fast, and Dad kept up a look of steely determination and concentration- it took every bit of strength that he had in him. You could see it in his eyes. He would visit his dad at the nursing home, walk out of there, and practically collapse for 3 days since "putting on the show" was so exhausting for him. When my grandfather died in March of that year, you could see the look of relief in Dad's eyes- so relieved that he had spared his own father more pain and grief.

That look of determination in his eyes went away- and 3 months later, he died too. I will never forget that look, and the sheer strength of his will to live, when his being alive meant everything to a sweet little old man.

IBD-nor will I forget that day.

jdarg--this is the sweetest story!!!!!!!! I'm all misty.

oh my goodness, all of your stories are beautiful. thank you for sharing.

barb - this is a wonderful thread.

there are so many things in my life, mostly wonderful, that I can never forget. but the lives and deaths of my Grandma and Papa John (both from italy) had such impact on me and I can never forget. I can never forget how they loved me and all of our family so completely. How their love was so unconditional and as vast as the universe. how they made us feel we were the most special children on earth. how they took us to mardi gras every year. how they spoiled us!!!! how they worked so hard and gave so much to family and friends. they were like a second set of parents. but cooler than my parents - who were wonderful themselves. Grandma and Papa John gave us our best memories. Grandma's death was devastating - she was only 64. Papa John's death was sad but felt like it was all okay because he had lived to 95, even though he grieved every day for his Mary, lived with my parents (and expected his family to care for him in the old Italian tradition - and he got what he expected!). Those grandparents were so grand.

to grandma and papa john!

awwww, I love them and dont know em great story!!

oh my goodness, all of your stories are beautiful. thank you for sharing.

barb - this is a wonderful thread.

there are so many things in my life, mostly wonderful, that I can never forget. but the lives and deaths of my Grandma and Papa John (both from italy) had such impact on me and I can never forget. I can never forget how they loved me and all of our family so completely. How their love was so unconditional and as vast as the universe. how they made us feel we were the most special children on earth. how they took us to mardi gras every year. how they spoiled us!!!! how they worked so hard and gave so much to family and friends. they were like a second set of parents. but cooler than my parents - who were wonderful themselves. Grandma and Papa John gave us our best memories. Grandma's death was devastating - she was only 64. Papa John's death was sad but felt like it was all okay because he had lived to 95, even though he grieved every day for his Mary, lived with my parents (and expected his family to care for him in the old Italian tradition - and he got what he expected!). Those grandparents were so grand.

to grandma and papa john!

I will never forget having nausea and being sent to a gastroenterologist because I had been told by doctors at UF and Duke that it was impossible for me to get pregnant.

I will never forget that my GI doctor did a pregnancy test and found out that I was pregnant.

I will never forget that while Christmas shopping at Neiman's, I had to leave to get to an OB appointment where Dr. Jose Garcia told me I was in labor at 26 weeks (unviable in those days) and that I had to immediately go to the hospital.

I will never forget being in the hospital for two months on bedrest to avoid losing Beach Jacket.

I will never forget Jose sitting by my bed all night long on several occasions when I was in intensive care due to side effects of the Yutopar.

I will never forget friends and family like Dr. Gil Watson (now minister at Northside UMC), Dr. Walter Murphy (president of LaGrange College), my cousin Brenda (Mrs. Darrell Young, whose husband was president of HBO), Charles and Nancy Stevens (philanthropists in LaGrange) visiting me and praying for me.

I will never forget my mother bringing her china, crystal, and silver, and serving a complete Christmas dinner in my hospital room because I was on bedrest and couldn't join the family at her house. FOREVER, MOM!

I will never forget my husband driving to the hospital every day after work, spending the night with me, and getting up early enough to drive back home to work the next morning.

I will never forget having labor induced because my family was in shambles due to the stress of me being in the hospital (including my Mom getting Bell's palsy from the stress), and me almost having to have a C-section because I wasn't dilating (and Jose and my GI doctor were buying Mercedes together that night to get a group discount -- LOL).

I will never forget that the first time they brought my daughter into my room, "Dallas" was on and I didn't want to miss it.

I will never forget what a miracle it was that I was ever able to have our precious Beach Jacket. Thank you Big D, Jose, Mom, and all of my family and friends whose support and prayers got me through the months of being hospitalized and made my beloved Beach Jacket a reality.

BR - wonderful story. really wonderful...

makes me want to tell about my absolute best memory. and that is coming home from a trip to Italy, going to the doctor for what I thought was a urinary tract infection, and finding out that I was pregnant (shock!!!). I was 40. and then giving birth to a wonderful baby boy who has stolen my heart from the very beginning.

Well, I'll never forget being by my mother's side and my father's side when each took their last breath. They are both buried near Sowal.

BR - wonderful story. really wonderful...

makes me want to tell about my absolute best memory. and that is coming home from a trip to Italy, going to the doctor for what I thought was a urinary tract infection, and finding out that I was pregnant (shock!!!). I was 40. and then giving birth to a wonderful baby boy who has stolen my heart from the very beginning.

Awwww! You know that Big D and I can totally relate to that.

I don't think I will ever forget thinking that SJ is one very unique person.

Joe after reading your comments to this thread, you would be a blessing to anyone that had to lose a family member due to your caring and understanding nature.

I will never forget seeing the Eiffel Tower.

The day I was married, and almost fainted during the ceremony.

The day my daughter was born.

The day our son died.

My first car wreck, I was 16, had my license one week and drove through the High School band room which was a concete block building and smashed a tuba. Things like that in a very small town you never live down.

The fact that my Dad loved me unconditionally.

The day my Dad passed away and where I was when my brother called.

The wonderful stories my Grandmother who lived to be 102 used to tell us about the olden days.

9-11

So many beautiful and sad stories!

What is it about death that burns itself into our memories? I had a lot of friends die in high school, too, and I'll never forget the pain involved.

BR, I loved your story! My mother used to tell us that there was something amazing about childbirth. She says that because she was so happy, she doesn't even remember pain. (I know a lot of mothers who disagree!) But I love hearing my mother talk about when my brother was born. Mom was adopted, and she said that my brother was the first person she ever saw who was a blood relative of hers--she was so happy to meet him!

My paternal grandmother died when I was 13, but I remember spending a week or so in the summer with her every year. Of her 13 grandchildren (9 girls and 4 boys,) I am the youngest, and I'm the only one that she taught to quilt. I feel incredibly honored.

I live in my maternal grandmother's house, and constantly remember her. I've mentioned that it doesn't have central heat, and I remember going to jump in bed with Nanny on cold nights with a hot water bottle. She only went to school until she was in the 8th grade, and was just barely literate. But she would recite the 23rd Psalm to me on command. She was a fiesty, stubborn little lady (imagine that!) and there was something really beautiful about being warm in a cold, dark room, hearing her quietly speak the words of her faith.

You know what I love about the things I can never forget? Sometimes I forget them for a while. But when the memories resurface they are all the more special...

So many beautiful and sad stories!

What is it about death that burns itself into our memories? I had a lot of friends die in high school, too, and I'll never forget the pain involved.

BR, I loved your story! My mother used to tell us that there was something amazing about childbirth. She says that because she was so happy, she doesn't even remember pain. (I know a lot of mothers who disagree!) But I love hearing my mother talk about when my brother was born. Mom was adopted, and she said that my brother was the first person she ever saw who was a blood relative of hers--she was so happy to meet him!

My paternal grandmother died when I was 13, but I remember spending a week or so in the summer with her every year. Of her 13 grandchildren (9 girls and 4 boys,) I am the youngest, and I'm the only one that she taught to quilt. I feel incredibly honored.

I live in my maternal grandmother's house, and constantly remember her. I've mentioned that it doesn't have central heat, and I remember going to jump in bed with Nanny on cold nights with a hot water bottle. She only went to school until she was in the 8th grade, and was just barely literate. But she would recite the 23rd Psalm to me on command. She was a fiesty, stubborn little lady (imagine that!) and there was something really beautiful about being warm in a cold, dark room, hearing her quietly speak the words of her faith.

You know what I love about the things I can never forget? Sometimes I forget them for a while. But when the memories resurface they are all the more special...