Well...I just have one small question for you. Just one. HOW MUCH FRIGGIN' STRENGTH CAN ONE PERSON NEED?!?!?!?! For the love of god. Whatever is going to come up in my life that requires me to have built up this much strength and character, I don't want to face! It's the bastard lovechild of Beelzebub, that Dragon that they talk about in Revelations and the Tooth Fairy.
Gather round, ye faithful readers, and listen to my story.
Arriving home on Saturday, I enjoyed approximately a day and a half of peace and serenity. I was happily making plans with friends and family and was looking forward to a relaxing and fun weekend. On Sunday night, my uncle Davis gave us a ring. I was sitting in the Great Room when my mom walked in sadly and sat down next to me. Alarmed, I quickly asked what was wrong. She then proceeded to tell me that my great Uncle Frisco had approximately 5 days left to live.
Enter HYSTERIA, stage left.
Seriously. Crying and sobbing, I asked how this was possible, how none of us could have known he was dying. Mom said that he apparently had had lung cancer for quite some time, but his emphazema had masked it, so no one knew about it until that past Friday, when the doctor's gave the family the dire prognosis.
Mom and I made plans to travel to Caledonia (north of Gettysburg) to visit with Frisco one last time and his daughter (our cousin) Jeannie, decided to come along (she knew the way to get there better then either of us).
In the car on the way up, Jeannie informed us that Davis had been misinformed and Frisco had approximately 3 to 6 months left to live, not 5 days. I breathed a small sigh of relief, thinking that this might not be my last visit to see him afterall.
We got to South Mountain at around 8, but because of security, we couldn't get to his room until around 8:10. There were two things that I noticed about Uncle Frisco straight off the bat. Actually three things. The first was the fact that, even at age 69, he still had more hair then all of my guy friends, save Adam. The second was that he looked exactly like my gramma did in her last days and the final bit was that his carotid artery (I think) was beating insanely fast and hard. When he went into apnea for the first time (for about 10 seconds) watching that thing beat was the only thing that let me know he was still alive.
I sat down in a chair beside him, held his hand and told him I loved him. I talked about some of the things I remembered about him from my childhood. Spending New Years with him, going to my grandpa's house on Sundays. Very typical, common stuff. Then I remembered how he taught my bird, Tweety, to scream "NGA NGA NGA!" constantly. He also taught Tweety such select words as "FUCKER" and "BASTARD." Tweety happily screeched all of these until the day he died. Tweety loved Uncle Frisco more then he loved me.
Yeah...
After that first apnea, Frisco opened his eyes for the first time since we got into the room. He locked eyes with me for about 15 seconds. In that time I saw no fear, no pain in his eyes. Only acceptance and love. He knew where he was going and he was happy to be going there. In that moment, I did not tell him good bye, I told him to sleep well.
Uncle Frisco went into apnea again. His heart slowed until it stopped. He passed away approximately 15 minutes after we got to his room, at 8:25. I held his hand, my mom had her head rested on his and Jeannie sat by his side.
I have no regrets about my relationship with my uncle. I was closer to him than any of my great uncles, and closer to him that any of my uncles, save Uncle Davis. He passed away peacefully. He went with family, to family that was waiting for him on the other side. God knows we have enough of them there. I got to tell him I loved him, I got to say sleep well and I got to be there with him when he went. I wouldn't change a thing.
But that doesn't mean this doesn't hurt. That doesn't mean I'm not crying. It does and I am. A huge chunk of my childhood is gone now, leaving only memories. It was his time, and I can accept that. I'm happy that his death wasn't prolonged and I couldn't be more grateful that he went so peacefully with people who loved and cared about him. But I miss him. And I'm sad. And the world is a much duller place without him in it.
Cheers, Uncle Frisco. I will never forget you. Thank you for always telling me that I was special, that there was more to life than meets the eye and that I was one of the people who was going to put that extra spark there. I'll do my best to live up to that.
Sleep well.
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