The Things I want to Remember . . . The Things I Want to Forget

With Papa's passing I have so many swirling thoughts in my head . . . quite honestly, it is really hard to process them out on paper. . . so, I'm going to just do the very best that I can.

Some things I want to remember. . . .

• When I saw his body in the casket for the first time . . . the tsunami of tears came, uncontrollably . . . I knew it would happen. . . . it was the first time all of this became really, really real. It was one of those ugly cries . . . the kind that makes you shake. I didn't want to upset my Grandmama . . . so I went to the bathroom with my sister, composed myself, and immediately thought, "I want my Mama." I walk out of the bathroom, and there she was . . . there to hug me and comfort me in a way only a mother could comfort her child. It is really quite magical when you think about it.
• After the funeral home was empty I'm talking to my aunt about my Papa's last breath . . . she was holding his cold hand, watching his chest go up and down . . . the last breath she said was deep and heavy . . . she knew it was his last . . . as she's telling me this story I look over at the casket. My petite, dainty, beautiful Grandmama in a navy, almost black dress, leaning over my Papa's casket, putting his hands in the proper place and just "fixing" him . . . as I'm sure she'd done all of her years . . .making sure his tie was straight . . . and the American flag on his casket . . . it almost reminded me of an image you would see of Jackie O over JFK's casket. I pray my brain took a picture of that moment that will never escape my memory.
• My amazing friends . . . I don't even have words to describe what my friends coming to the funeral home or funeral means to me. They all went so far out of their way . . . it was an hour away from where we live . . . Candis, Stephanie, Lisa, Jennifer, Tiffani, Suzanne, and Terri . . . You will never, ever know how much you all being there touched me to the very core of my heart. My sweet, precious friend, Faith, I know you were there with us in spirit, and your prayers mean more to me than you could ever know. Julie, thank you for your very sweet text. Thank you all for being my friend. I love you all!!!
• Seeing my Dad crying at the funeral. I was really angry with him from the night before. He was sitting in front of me. Quite honestly I really did not want to console him at all . . .I know that is awful and ugly and very unChrist-like, but it was truly how I was feeling. I did pray for him as he mourned. Then in my spirit, I heard the Lord tell me . . . "You are to be the hands and feet of Jesus." I reached out to my Dad's back and rubbed his back with great mercy, tenderness, and compassion . . . only those things could have come from God Himself. When they closed the curtain the family was behind and the funeral was over. . . my Dad gets up out of his seat, and hugs me like he never has . . . ever. . . he was like a limp dishrag . .. all of his weight was thrust forward on me . . .and he bawled and sobbed and said, "I loved him so much." He grabbed my sister and we all stood there hugging one another.
• My Papa's sweet pastor and all of the very true and funny things he said about my Papa. . . like "I know one of the first things the Lord told Billy was, 'Billy, now there is no climbing the tree of life." Papa would climb trees up until about 2 years ago when he was diagnosed with cancer. Once he fell out of one and broke his back. We all would tell him he couldn't do things like that. He just didn't get that his body was not as young as his mind. The pastor also said, "Heaven's a little noisier now." Amen to that. . . Papa was a talker . . . mostly always talking about the Lord though. The pastor told a story of how when he first came to the church and the church didn't have much money how Papa would save the papers no one bought from the paper route. They'd store them in the church and once a month they'd take them to be recycled. The recycling center gave them 2 to 3 cent a pound for the papers. This money from the recycled papers supplied all of the toiletries for the church for 2 years. He told a story of what a hard worker Papa was . . . when they were building their new church building Papa was there cleaning up some sawdust. He would put the sawdust into big trash bags. He went to empty one of these bags into the dumpster . .. he threw it up high and the bag busted and saw dust went all over Papa. I can see Papa now jumping around like he had ants in his pants. The pastor said after Papa wiped his eyes that Papa looked around as if he was hoping no one saw him. . . he saw his pastor standing there and said, "Anybody but you. Anybody but you."
• Seeing my Uncle Herman who looks so very much like my Papa. I was very drawn to him . . . probably because he and Papa resemble one another so much. Guess what? He's a runner and so are his 2 daughters who are just a little younger than I am. He told me that Papa was very proud of my running and when he would come and visit him Papa would break out pictures of me in the marathon that I ran. If I never have any incentive for running again, this will give it to me. It honors me that Papa was so proud of me.
• Ashley asking to see Papa one last time before we went to the funeral. I took her to his casket and lifted her up to kiss him on the forehead. I kissed him myself. He was ice cold. I'd never kissed a dead body before.
• Alec's tenderness towards me during this time. He'd come up to me at the funeral home and just stand close beside me, asking me if I was okay. He'd come and give me random hugs. He was so very gentle and tender.
• This past Monday night Alec cried and cried and cried over the loss of Papa. It was so sweet.

Some things I want to forget. . .

• my Dad was very drunk at the funeral home. . . he literally treated it like he was in a bar. He kissed a friend of mine on the side of her forehead . . . never having met her before. I was mortified!! He would go to the casket and yell, "Get up Daddy. Get up." He was so dishonoring and disrespectful and it flew all over me. His wife is there waiting on him and he pulls up with his girlfriend. It was just awful, plan awful. He grabbed my nephew and said, "Come here you little brat." I was so ashamed when people would say to my sister and I, "Are you both Mike's girls." I would say through clenched teeth, "Yes." That is why I was so angry with him at the funeral. I know everyone grieves differently, but he was so drunk it was disgusting. The whole time I would just think and pray, "I hope Grandmama is so out of it she doesn't know what he's doing." I almost didn't put this on here, but I am always hopeful that Daddy will one day accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior and what glory and honor it will bring to the Lord to have a man like my Dad . . . someone who thinks he is saved, but who is very lost . . . come to repentance and a saving knowledge of Jesus. I will never stop praying, never stop believing, and never give up hope over my Dad.

My precious Grandmama is beside herself. She says the house is so quiet. Papa was always calling her to do something for him, the oxygen tank was always going . . . and now . . . quiet. She misses him so very much. She told me this morning she just hasn't been able to cry over his death yet. She wants to. She said she thinks it will make her feel better. . . .she just can't cry. Please lift her up in your prayers. Thank you so much.

To all of my blogging friends. . . thank you all for your very sweet comments and mostly for your prayers. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy days to read what's going on in my life and to take the time to comment. You all bring a smile to my face.