nickelsandcoats (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nickelsandcoats) wrote2011-05-26 01:21 am
nickelsandcoats) wrote2011-05-26 01:21 am
Entry tags:
Papaw
This is really long and full of drama about my family. If you want to read about my Papaw and all the drama that happened after he passed on, click on the cut.
So I don't really even know where to begin. Matt and I flew home on Thursday the 12th (we were supposed to leave Tulsa at 6 AM--didn't leave until 9:30 AM--what a nightmare that was) and got to see Papaw in hospice on Thursday afternoon. Papaw had just been moved there a few hours before we got there, so he was still mostly asleep from the Ativan they gave him. He did wake up once though and looked right at me and tried to say "hi, hon," which is how he always greeted me. Right before we left, Nana shook his shoulder and told him I was here again, to which he had the typical response of a shrug. I laughed at that--he always did that whenever Nana told him I had come over. He'd shrug and say, "So?" (and he was always being silly when he did it--I was and always will be Papaw's girl) before giving me a hug and saying "hi, hon."
We went back to hospice on Friday and spent quite a bit of time there. We went in the morning, where I got some time alone with him, and he woke up once and looked at me again and tried to say "hi," but couldn't. I am just so glad he knew I was there. We went back Friday night, and that was the last time I saw him alive. He was down to 10 breaths a minute when we left at 8 PM, and I knew it wasn't going to be much longer.
Nana called at 4:06 on Saturday morning (this was May 14th) and told us he was gone. Apparently, the hospice nurses came in and gave him a bath around 1 AM, and Nana fell asleep in the pullout chair around 2 AM. When the nurses came back around around 3 AM, he was gone.
And then, things went to hell.
Quick detour for some background on my brother and dad
My dad is an asshole. My parents divorced when I was 15 (it was finalized on my 16th birthday, happy birthday me) and my younger brother, Justin, was 13. Dad was really never home when I was younger--he was always gone on business trips, golfing, and barbershop singing stuff. There was one year where he was gone for a grand total of 35 weeks of the 52 in that year. He remarried six months after the divorce was final, and a few years after that, moved out to Boston. He never calls, and he never came to get us on his custody days unless I called first to remind him. Needless to say, I don't have much to do with him. He wrote us off and basically pretends we don't exist when he's in Boston.
Justin, my younger brother, is an alcoholic. He's 24 now and got evicted from his last apartment in January. Nana took pity on him and co-signed a lease for him so he had a roof over his head. He has a girlfriend, Donita, who's in her 30s, who is now pregnant with his child (she's due in Dec.) but they're on again off again. There's a lot more to this whole saga with him, but for this story, it's enough to know he's an alcoholic and he's a mean drunk.
/end backstory
Monday morning, I get a call from my mom, who finally managed to get a hold of Justin (he wouldn't answer his phone at all because he was upset), and she told me I needed to try to get a hold of him to make sure he had clothes to wear to the viewing, which was Tuesday night, and the funeral on Wednesday morning. Since Justin has no car, he would also need a ride. Plans had already been made for him to come to Nana's Monday afternoon, stay Tuesday night, and then go home after the funeral on Wednesday. This plan fell through in a hurry.
Cut to Monday afternoon. Nana gets a call from Justin's landlord that he's going to get evicted tomorrow if he doesn't pay his rent. Nana writes a check for the amount of the rent they owe (Donita, Justin's girlfriend who was living with Justin in this apt, had paid half the rent, but didn't have enough for the rest), and asks my uncle and I to take it down. We do.
Cut to Monday evening. Donita calls Nana and says that Justin got drunk, hit her, threw her stuff out of the apt., spit on her, and basically threw her out. About two hours later, Justin calls Nana and says that Donita brought a few of her male friends back to the apt. so she could get the rest of her stuff, they got in a fight, one of the guys punched Justin in the jaw. Justin's drunk and slurring his words, complaining that he's hurt and that the cops won't let him press charges because he's drunk. We tell him to call an ambulance if he's hurt since we can't really do anything for him. Police call the medics, who take Justin to the hospital where he learns he has a broken jaw.
Drama over for a bit.
The viewing on Tuesday was wonderful. My Papaw was very well-known to the community. He worked for our local power company as a lineman for 44 years, was involved in DeMolay and was a Mason, so there were lots of people who came to the viewing (about 150-180). Justin wasn't there.
Dad, who came in late Monday night (he and my stepmom drove down to Ohio from Boston), went and got Justin Wed. morning, so he was there for the funeral service. During the viewing and funeral, my father barely acknowledged me (whatever) and spoke maybe ten words to me the entire time. Once we went back to Nana's after the funeral Wed. morning, he decided that he should pretend to be a dad and talked about his drive to Ohio, his cats, and that was it. Nothing about how I was doing, how library school was going (I think he's still mad I dropped out of my PhD program because now he can't brag that his daughter is a college professor). I'm done with him. I knew he had pretty much written us off after the divorce, and I knew not to expect much from him, but this was the last straw.
Thursday afternoon, Matt and I go over to Nana's while Justin's having his jaw surgery (his jaw's wired shut for the next six weeks). My stepmom decides to lecture us on how horrible our family is for not racing down there on Monday night to check on him and get his prescriptions filled (you can get them filled at the hospital--he chose not to do that) and etc. I almost blew up at her. She knows nothing about how awful Justin is--he is a pathological liar and an alcoholic (she told us the hospital ran a blood test and his BAC came back negative--so she said he was sober--which is a complete lie--Justin was the one who told her and Dad that to make it seem like it wasn't his fault the guy hit him, even though Justin was the one who swung first) and we all know that he was just whipping up drama because he wanted attention (he always pulls shit like this whenever my Dad comes in to town--Justin got so drunk before my WEDDING REHEARSAL that he passed out and missed the whole thing--Matt threatened him with bodily harm if he showed up drunk to the wedding--he didn't come drunk).
I have never been so glad that we moved from Ohio to Oklahoma. My family is so full of drama it's ridiculous. At least when I'm here I don't have to deal with it first hand. I've written off my dad--if he calls or posts on my facebook wall, I'll be civil, but I won't seek out contact anymore. I didn't even call him on his birthday this year--just posted on his fb wall instead. He never said a word about it. Oh, well. Good riddance.
-----
If you got through that, congrats!
I'm going to work on Those Left Behind soon--I'm working on something for my uncle which is taking up a lot of my time. I'm hoping to have part 9 up before the middle of next week.
If I get a chance, I'll scan and post one of my favourite pictures of me and Papaw sometime very soon. When I was younger, we used to get to walk to the corner store with Papaw and get a pack of those mini-donuts (the ones that 5 little donuts wrapped in cellophane) when we stayed the night at their house. We always went at night just after dinner so we could have the donuts for breakfast. After we walked back home, we would sit on their porch swing and open the donuts. I would have one, and Papaw would have one as his "fee." I'd have the other three for breakfast the next morning. This picture is of a very young me and Papaw on the porch swing after our donut excursion, and I'm feeding him his donut. I love this picture so much--it's just so us. I was Papaw's girl--I used to fall asleep on his chest when I was a baby. In fact, if I got fussy, it was the only way to calm me down--give me to Papaw, let him put me on his chest, and I was out like a light in less than a minute. We were very very close and I miss him so much.
Fuck, now I'm crying again. Love you, Papaw.
So I don't really even know where to begin. Matt and I flew home on Thursday the 12th (we were supposed to leave Tulsa at 6 AM--didn't leave until 9:30 AM--what a nightmare that was) and got to see Papaw in hospice on Thursday afternoon. Papaw had just been moved there a few hours before we got there, so he was still mostly asleep from the Ativan they gave him. He did wake up once though and looked right at me and tried to say "hi, hon," which is how he always greeted me. Right before we left, Nana shook his shoulder and told him I was here again, to which he had the typical response of a shrug. I laughed at that--he always did that whenever Nana told him I had come over. He'd shrug and say, "So?" (and he was always being silly when he did it--I was and always will be Papaw's girl) before giving me a hug and saying "hi, hon."
We went back to hospice on Friday and spent quite a bit of time there. We went in the morning, where I got some time alone with him, and he woke up once and looked at me again and tried to say "hi," but couldn't. I am just so glad he knew I was there. We went back Friday night, and that was the last time I saw him alive. He was down to 10 breaths a minute when we left at 8 PM, and I knew it wasn't going to be much longer.
Nana called at 4:06 on Saturday morning (this was May 14th) and told us he was gone. Apparently, the hospice nurses came in and gave him a bath around 1 AM, and Nana fell asleep in the pullout chair around 2 AM. When the nurses came back around around 3 AM, he was gone.
And then, things went to hell.
Quick detour for some background on my brother and dad
My dad is an asshole. My parents divorced when I was 15 (it was finalized on my 16th birthday, happy birthday me) and my younger brother, Justin, was 13. Dad was really never home when I was younger--he was always gone on business trips, golfing, and barbershop singing stuff. There was one year where he was gone for a grand total of 35 weeks of the 52 in that year. He remarried six months after the divorce was final, and a few years after that, moved out to Boston. He never calls, and he never came to get us on his custody days unless I called first to remind him. Needless to say, I don't have much to do with him. He wrote us off and basically pretends we don't exist when he's in Boston.
Justin, my younger brother, is an alcoholic. He's 24 now and got evicted from his last apartment in January. Nana took pity on him and co-signed a lease for him so he had a roof over his head. He has a girlfriend, Donita, who's in her 30s, who is now pregnant with his child (she's due in Dec.) but they're on again off again. There's a lot more to this whole saga with him, but for this story, it's enough to know he's an alcoholic and he's a mean drunk.
/end backstory
Monday morning, I get a call from my mom, who finally managed to get a hold of Justin (he wouldn't answer his phone at all because he was upset), and she told me I needed to try to get a hold of him to make sure he had clothes to wear to the viewing, which was Tuesday night, and the funeral on Wednesday morning. Since Justin has no car, he would also need a ride. Plans had already been made for him to come to Nana's Monday afternoon, stay Tuesday night, and then go home after the funeral on Wednesday. This plan fell through in a hurry.
Cut to Monday afternoon. Nana gets a call from Justin's landlord that he's going to get evicted tomorrow if he doesn't pay his rent. Nana writes a check for the amount of the rent they owe (Donita, Justin's girlfriend who was living with Justin in this apt, had paid half the rent, but didn't have enough for the rest), and asks my uncle and I to take it down. We do.
Cut to Monday evening. Donita calls Nana and says that Justin got drunk, hit her, threw her stuff out of the apt., spit on her, and basically threw her out. About two hours later, Justin calls Nana and says that Donita brought a few of her male friends back to the apt. so she could get the rest of her stuff, they got in a fight, one of the guys punched Justin in the jaw. Justin's drunk and slurring his words, complaining that he's hurt and that the cops won't let him press charges because he's drunk. We tell him to call an ambulance if he's hurt since we can't really do anything for him. Police call the medics, who take Justin to the hospital where he learns he has a broken jaw.
Drama over for a bit.
The viewing on Tuesday was wonderful. My Papaw was very well-known to the community. He worked for our local power company as a lineman for 44 years, was involved in DeMolay and was a Mason, so there were lots of people who came to the viewing (about 150-180). Justin wasn't there.
Dad, who came in late Monday night (he and my stepmom drove down to Ohio from Boston), went and got Justin Wed. morning, so he was there for the funeral service. During the viewing and funeral, my father barely acknowledged me (whatever) and spoke maybe ten words to me the entire time. Once we went back to Nana's after the funeral Wed. morning, he decided that he should pretend to be a dad and talked about his drive to Ohio, his cats, and that was it. Nothing about how I was doing, how library school was going (I think he's still mad I dropped out of my PhD program because now he can't brag that his daughter is a college professor). I'm done with him. I knew he had pretty much written us off after the divorce, and I knew not to expect much from him, but this was the last straw.
Thursday afternoon, Matt and I go over to Nana's while Justin's having his jaw surgery (his jaw's wired shut for the next six weeks). My stepmom decides to lecture us on how horrible our family is for not racing down there on Monday night to check on him and get his prescriptions filled (you can get them filled at the hospital--he chose not to do that) and etc. I almost blew up at her. She knows nothing about how awful Justin is--he is a pathological liar and an alcoholic (she told us the hospital ran a blood test and his BAC came back negative--so she said he was sober--which is a complete lie--Justin was the one who told her and Dad that to make it seem like it wasn't his fault the guy hit him, even though Justin was the one who swung first) and we all know that he was just whipping up drama because he wanted attention (he always pulls shit like this whenever my Dad comes in to town--Justin got so drunk before my WEDDING REHEARSAL that he passed out and missed the whole thing--Matt threatened him with bodily harm if he showed up drunk to the wedding--he didn't come drunk).
I have never been so glad that we moved from Ohio to Oklahoma. My family is so full of drama it's ridiculous. At least when I'm here I don't have to deal with it first hand. I've written off my dad--if he calls or posts on my facebook wall, I'll be civil, but I won't seek out contact anymore. I didn't even call him on his birthday this year--just posted on his fb wall instead. He never said a word about it. Oh, well. Good riddance.
-----
If you got through that, congrats!
I'm going to work on Those Left Behind soon--I'm working on something for my uncle which is taking up a lot of my time. I'm hoping to have part 9 up before the middle of next week.
If I get a chance, I'll scan and post one of my favourite pictures of me and Papaw sometime very soon. When I was younger, we used to get to walk to the corner store with Papaw and get a pack of those mini-donuts (the ones that 5 little donuts wrapped in cellophane) when we stayed the night at their house. We always went at night just after dinner so we could have the donuts for breakfast. After we walked back home, we would sit on their porch swing and open the donuts. I would have one, and Papaw would have one as his "fee." I'd have the other three for breakfast the next morning. This picture is of a very young me and Papaw on the porch swing after our donut excursion, and I'm feeding him his donut. I love this picture so much--it's just so us. I was Papaw's girl--I used to fall asleep on his chest when I was a baby. In fact, if I got fussy, it was the only way to calm me down--give me to Papaw, let him put me on his chest, and I was out like a light in less than a minute. We were very very close and I miss him so much.
Fuck, now I'm crying again. Love you, Papaw.
no subject
As for the other characters who are ^&*(g your life with all this drama- you can not save someone determined to drown, and you seem to have taken the best route possible with them at this time. From your tags you have a wonderful husband and you don't have to deal with the others as much now that you are in OK. Just focus for now on grieving your Pawpaw. Even all the way over here I can tell how much he meant to you. Drama for drama's sake will eventually peter away if it gets ignored.
Big cyber hug!
Jenn, who has been through this with her FIL and is losing her mom to ALS bit by bit...
no subject
As for the other characters who are ^&*(g your life with all this drama- you can not save someone determined to drown, --yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I've known this for a long time, and I've given up on trying to help my brother until he asks for me to help him--he has to want to help himself before he can accept help from anyone. Unfortunately, my Nana doesn't grasp that, and she keeps wavering between helping him (like with the lease--being on the streets in Ohio in January would've sobered him up, literally and figuratively, right quick) and saying that she can't help him because he has to want to get help. She's the one I'm most worried about.
My husband is awesome--I literally don't know what I would do without him. We've been together since we were 14, and we're now 26. He's my best friend and my soulmate. I could gush about him for days--I'm an incredibly lucky woman to have him in my life.
Being in OK has been the best decision ever. Well, maybe not living in OK (it's so HOT!) but moving out of Ohio has definitely been the best thing we've done. I was constantly wound up with stress in Ohio (funny enough, my IBS hasn't flared up once since we've lived here--it only flares up when we go back to Ohio. Coincidence? I think not) because of the constant drama, but here, I can stick my fingers in my ears or just go mmhmm when someone calls about more drama.
I'm so sorry to hear about your mom. I hope that things are as well as they can be for you and for her.
*massive hugs!*
(sorry for the novel-length response)
no subject
Take care of yourself.
Love and hugs, Ari x
no subject
I really appreciate the good thoughts and hugs, and I'm sending some your way too.
♥