Papa with Ashton & Tate 2008. This would be his last Halloween.
Papa with my Niece & Nephew, Lillie and Harley 2008.
Halloween is one of my favorite holidays.
And it was the only time of year when I was required to knock on Papa Bud's door.
He LOVED Halloween. He loved when we would bring the babies by so they could 'trick-or-treat' with him. Until his health no longer permitted him to walk, Papa ALWAYS answered the door when we would come by. "TRICK -OR-TREAT" the babies would yell in unison and he would smile.
Papa didn't just give you a piece of candy. No sir. He would get a giant ziplock bag and fill it full of the best candy a kid could ask for. Snickers, Reese cups, double bubble, etc.
Being in Richmond for Halloween might be a good idea. It would be hard to trick or treat at Mama Jo's house this year and not see my Papa in his chair with that beautiful smile on his face.
I knew I would miss him, I knew it would be hard. But I didn't know it would be this hard. Some days are just really hard.
Grief is hard work. It comes at you in waves. Sometimes I am ok and the grief is tolerable. At those times, I can even clean my house up a bit. Maybe even shave my legs.
Other times, the grief is crushing down onto me. It makes me want to stay in bed all day with the covers drawn up over my head.
It hurts physically. Your head hurts, you feel nauseous. You are exhausted but sleep does not come.
Papa told me in a letter he wrote 9 years ago that "It is OK to feel sad. You have to get the sadness out of your heart to make room for the happiness and pride to follow."
Yes, even 9 years ago I was worried about losing him. Thank you God for those precious 9 years you gave me in between.
So, I am letting my sadness out. There is so much of it though. And just when I think I have let most of it out, more follows.
My strength in God is growing stronger as I learn to trust HIM with this grief. HE will lead me into better moments.
I hope one day when I look back on this time in my life, I can smile knowing that my Grandpa was loved so much as he began his journey HOME.
That we as a family rallied around his bedside, ever loyal and ready to stand by his bed no matter how long it took.
And that I was given the gift of a final goodbye. A lot of people do not get that last moment to say "I LOVE YOU. Thank you God for him telling me. He knew he was dying and he wanted everyone of us in his room so he could tell us he loved us and goodbye.
I went by Mama Jo's today (so strange not calling it Papa Bud's house).
She is remarkable. Even as her tears wet her face, I felt her strength. I love her so much.
I miss him so much.
Papa,
Help me let this sadness out so the happiness you so dearly treasured can come back in. I just MISS YOU SO MUCH. You are forever with me, in thought, prayer and precious memories.
Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?
1 Cor. 15:55
It's been one week since I lost Papa Bud.
I woke up this morning feeling like crap.
Maybe I'm still in shock. It all happened so fast.
One afternoon he is alive sitting in front of me, talking and laughing...and two weeks later he is dead and buried.
I had feared this day for years now. There were times when I would burst into tears at just the thought of losing him.
And now he is gone. It isn't a bad thought. It is our new reality.
Some of my friends cannot understand my grief. After all, he was only a grandfather. It isn't like I lost a parent or God forbid one of my children I am sure they are thinking.
They are clueless. My love for Papa Bud is as fierce and protective as the love I have for my children. And though I have been blessed with wonderful, loving parents----my love for Papa was in its own category.
I have lost someone whom I loved more than most things in this earth.
My heart feels lost. I miss him terribly.
Visiting his grave helps. It's nice to have a place where I can go and just let the tears fall.
But I know he isn't in the grave. Christ conquered the grave on Calvary. But even knowing that I still go to his grave. I think I've been at least 10 times now. And I know I will visit him there many, many more times in the days and months to follow.
I feel like my life has been changed into what will now be two distinct categories.... before Papa died and after Papa died.
I just miss him so much.
Today while I was cleaning out some old junk drawers, two birthday cards from 2007 and 2008 fell out.
They were from him. It was his handwriting on the envelopes. I just cried and held them close.
Papa,
I am missing you so much. And though you have planted the seed of hope inside my heart that we will one day be reunited, I am just plain miserable without you in my life.
If there was a hole I could crawl inside and just cry and scream my way out of this--I would. But I know I have to get a hold of my grief. Not grieve you like heathens would as Raini would say.
But its a lonely road without you in my life. I miss your voice, your hugs and seeing you sitting by the window when I would pull into your driveway.I miss you so much.
Last Tuesday began with another early phone call from my Aunt Beverly.
"His breathing has changed", she told me.
I rushed to the hospital. This was becoming routine and it felt as natural as breathing to stand over my Papa Bud for hours a day waiting for that moment. Fatigue was not a word in my vocabulary last week as we stood watch over this wonderful man.
I entered his room, not knowing what I would find.
Papa was resting but his breathing had changed. His mouth was open and he was almost gasping it seemed for breath.
"That's normal for someone with his sleep apnea", a nurse told me.
It didn't sound normal. I held him and just cried. He was suffering so much. I prayed for God to take him soon.
The day went by quickly. My sister, Raini, came and we all sat in his hospital room reading the Grandfather Remember's journal he had given me many years ago.
We laughed, we cried. It was bittersweet. A circle of love had formed around this man. His wife, children, grandchildren and great grandchildren had formed a protective circle of love that surely brought him peace in his last hours.
The Hospice doctor came in. They were going to increase Papa's medication for pain. Moma Jo decided not to try to move him home.
Papa's wish was to die at home not in the hospital but we were so afraid that if we moved him he would suffer. It was the right choice. No one had anticipated Papa would decline this rapidly. Or that he would be kept asleep for much of his last hours due to the pain he was in.
I suppose in my mind, I had always anticipated his death as something that would happen in his sleep. That one day we would be talking and laughing in his living room beside his chair, and the next day he would be gone.
I had never prepared myself that he might suffer, or for his memory to be altered. It just wasn't conceivable.
We stayed by his side until early Tuesday evening.
My mom & Beverly were going to both stay this night in the hospital with Papa. Beverly had been staying by herself with him. My mom wanted to be there tonight.
I was going to take Moma Jo home. None of us wanted her to try to stay in the hospital. She agreed. She asked the nurses to evaluate Papa for her so she could make the decision of whether or not to go home.
The nurses told her he was slowly declining. It could be days or hours. Only God knew.
Raini, my little sister who is a nurse, took Moma Jo by the hands. "Mama Jo, if its God will for you to be here when he goes then that is what will happen".
While they were talking I nealt beside Papa's bed.
I took his face in my hands and I kissed his cheeks. I whispered in his ear, "Papa, I'm going to take Moma Jo home. I will be back in the morning---but you don't have to wait for me. If you need to go before I get here it's ok. Papa, you are the best friend I have ever had and I love you so much. But I will see you soon. Promise me that you'll look over me till that day comes. I love you".
I kissed his hands and took one last long look at the most wonderful man to ever enter my life.
Me and Papa had a special relationship. Besides my babies, there was no one on this earth who I could love more than my Papa. He always knew what to say. He knew when I needed a hug. He just KNEW me. It was a bond that even as a little girl I understood it to be the most special relationship in my life. A part of me knew at that moment, that this was to be the last time we would be together on this earth. I took one last long look at him as I walked out of the room.
That was the last time I saw him alive.
He would die the next morning. Mama Jo was just a mile away when it happened.
Justin with Papa Bud before he took a turn for the worse.
Today is my 35th birthday.
It's my first birthday without Papa Bud.
He hasn't been strong enough to visit me at my mom's house where my birthday's are held in many years.
After my party, before I would head home, I would always cut Papa a piece of my birthday cake.
Every year it comes from Dewey's. I would run in his house, grab a spoon and pop a bite into his mouth. He had diabetes so it had to be a little bite. I loved how he would smile at me. 'Thats good" he would say!
Last Monday he gave me the BEST birthday present ever.
After the day he had on Saturday, the doctors cranked up his pain meds. On Sunday when I visited him, he never woke up.
My mom said he may not ever wake up because the pain was so intense that even if he did wake up he would be so miserable and still may have so much confusion from the infection caused by his failing kidneys that he probably wouldn't recognize us.
That HURT. Driving home Sunday night me and Justin (middle son) were sobbing. We may not ever get to tell him we loved him again and that was tragic.
Monday morning my cell phone rings at 6:30AM. I am not a morning person at all. But I knew it had to be terrible news about Papa.
"Hello"--I barely got out the words........"Trinity, this is Beverly--Papa wants to speak to you" she said.
I thought Beverly must have been half crazy sitting in that hospital all night and now she is hearing things too.....but before I could fuss at her I heard three magic words, from my Papa Bud.
"I LOVE YOU"---he could barely get them out but it was him and he was talking to me.
"I miss you" I said back to him----it was what I instinctively said---because I had been missing him. Missing his stories, missing his phone calls, missing his very presence in my life.
Beverly had the phone on speaker for him, she told Papa, "We got old #1 out of the bed before 7am Daddy--what do you think of that?" she said. Papa even chuckled!
Then Beverly told me, "Get here quick---we don't know how long he will be up".
We raced to room 8156. When I got there, my entire family was there with him. I rushed to his bedside. His blue eyes looked up at me. They were bloodshot and watery.
"#1 is here Daddy", Beverly told him.
"I love you Papa Bud" I said. All the great grandbabies were gathered around him. There wasn't an inch to give in that room. His entire family was around him. Even his dear friend, our Pastor was in the room.
My grandmother, Betty Jo hugged him. It was then that I witnessed the most precious moment in my life.
He told her, "I will always love you". He tried to sing it. It was from the song by Jonny Cash You are My Sunshine. They then shared a tender kiss. What a precious moment! It was their song!
I'll always love you and make you happy, If you will only say the same. But if you leave me and love another, You'll regret it all some day:
Within an hour, his pain returned. He was once again heavily sedated. Never would he open those precious blue eyes and look at me again. In two days, he would be dead.
What a blessing it was to see him be able to tell us all that he loved us. That he could have all the babies climb up on him and give him kisses. He could tell we were all there and we were not going to leave him.
The last week has been hard, but the days since we buried him are even harder. NOT worrying about him is worse than worrying about him. It's what we did. Now that all is said and done--it's like NOW WHAT.
I was so blessed. His death isn't tragic---Grandparents are supposed to die before their babies----I get that part. But his death has been traumatic. He was like a father to me, my soul mate if there is such a thing for family members that you are so close to they could be your family soul mate.
I've lost but heaven has gained.
I firmly believe that we will be reunited one day.
In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Genesis 3:19
Our Pastor referenced this passage yesterday during Papa Bud's memorial service.
My two older sons and I sat by his grave until he was completely buried.
As the North Carolina red clay dirt swirled around us I felt so honored to be able to do this one last thing for Papa.
How precious a memory that I will carry in my heart that Papa Bud was never left alone from the time he was hospitalized to the time he was buried.
Someone from our family was always standing watch over him.
What an honor to be able to see this wonderful man all the way to his journey home.
Last Friday night as I sat by his feet at Moma Jo's house I had no idea this was to be the last time I would ever see him sitting in his chair.
He was so sick. He was confused from the trip to the doctor that day. They had told my Mom that they were going to have Hospice come Monday to get Papa comfortable. The end was near.
He was looking out of his window and I told him, "It's a pretty day outside isn't it, Papa......but you have had a hard day haven't you"?
He nodded and then said directly to me, "Yeah, but I'm going home soon".
"You are"? I replied.
"Yes", he said. "Thats my truck in the driveway" he told me and he pointed to the driveway.
Papa hasn't had a truck in more than 3 years.
But at that moment I had no doubt Papa was going to go home---heaven---and his truck WAS sitting out there for him to see even if I couldn't.
I wiped tears away and kissed his face. I told him, "You are so handsome, Papa".
"I love you" I told him.
"I love you too darlin'" he said as I left.
We drove away, me and the kids and we were all crying. The end was coming.
On early Saturday morning Papa's doctor called Moma Jo. He told her Papa's blood tests had come back and revealed an infection. He would need to be rushed to the hospital.
We were hopeful that the infection could be treated with antibiotics....that maybe even if by curing the infection, his memory would strengthen.....maybe he would even feel like walking again.
As I entered room 8156 at Forsyth Hospital--so hopeful--my mom's face ended all hope.
She ushered me into the hallway. Her face was swollen and her cheeks were tear stained.
"He is in the last stages of kidney failure. He does not have long" she said.
And thus began my journey into what has been the longest, yet not long enough in some aspects, week of my life.
Seeing my Papa Bud off into his wonderful journey to heaven and all the Glory that surely greeted him took less than five days.
His blood tests revealed that he had an infection and this was what had been causing his confusion. He was rushed to our local hospital.
On Saturday we received the news that his kidneys were in the final stages of renal failure.
Our hopes were to bring him home and allow hospice to care for him.
Today we have realized that will not happen. His situation is too critical for transport. He will die at Forsyth Hospital where 35 years ago next week ---I was born.
I have spent most of the last 72 hours by his bedside. Crying, laughing and loving on him along with my sister and extended family. What an honor it has been to care for him during his final hours.
My heart has been sadly anticipating this day for a long time now, and yet I feel unprepared for his passing.
His hospital room has been filled with visitors. This was a loved man and is evidenced by the amount of tears that have fallen at his bedside.
I think your success in life cannot be determined by what kind of house you live in or what car you drive but can truly only be measured by tears that fall from the eyes of the people who cling to you while you journey thru death to heavens door. In that regards, my Papa Bud is the most successful man I know.
We will love him, never forget him and one day I pray to rejoin him. I love you Papa Bud!
I heard this song Saturday night after I left the hospital---it will be played at his funeral.
Heaven's Bright Shore Out on the hills of glory land So happy and free at God's right hand They tell of a place of marvelous grace On heaven's bright shore Pilgrims on earth someday will go To live in that home forever more Trusting in Him who died for sin, And rose from the grave
On heaven's bright shore (on heaven's bright shore), There's gonna be no more dyin' (over there) Not one little grave (not one little grave), In all that fair land (that wonderful land). Not even a tear will dim the eye, And no one up there will say goodbye Just singing His praise through endless days On Heaven's bright shore (on heaven's bright shore)
When I must cross that rolling tide, There'll be someone on the other side Welcoming me to that fair land, made perfect by love When I walk up the milky white way, I'll see that home coming in a ray How great it must be for angels to see A pilgrim reach home
On heaven's bright shore (on heaven's bright shore), There's gonna be no more dyin' (over there) Not one little grave (not one little grave), In all that fair land (that wonderful land) Not even a tear will dim the eye, And no one up there will say goodbye Just singing His praise through endless days On Heaven's bright shore
Just singing His praise through endless days
Update: My Grandfather, Harley Gentry Roper finished his earthly race on Wednesday, August 5th 2009. I am sure he was greeted with applause from many loved ones who journeyed before him and was told by our Creator, "Well done, good and faithful servant--Come and share your Master's blessings!"
Dear Papa--I miss you so much. Walking into your house yesterday was the first time I had been there since Friday and its the first time I had to accept the fact that you would not be in your chair.
I wouldn't be able to kiss the top of your head as I entered the door. Your glasses were on the table but will never again touch your sweet face as you drink your morning coffee and read your newspaper.
Mama Jo had your favorite candy --the peanut butter bars in a bag on the bar and I took a few to keep.
I'm not prepared. I'm not ready to tell you goodbye. Who's #1 am I now?
Thank you for loving me so much. No one has loved me or understood me like you. Our bond will transcend time. I will carry you within my heart for as long as I live. I will tell stories about you to my great grandchildren one day. Your memory will live on. I will take you with me everywhere I go until we are together again. I know we will be together again. That is the only thing that will get us all through this.
Sometimes his stories are fictional, sometimes factual and sometimes a mix of both but nevertheless, his stories always put a smile on my face.
They would also get in me in trouble when I was smaller. I believed everything Papa Bud said. And sometimes, this caused some conflict.
When I was 3 he told me the story of how when I grew up, I would become a boy and we would go fishing on his bass boat together.
I took it to heart! I wanted to go on that bass boat so badly! I decided from that point on, I was going to change my name to ROBIN----after Batman's sidekick of course.
Once while shopping with Mama Jo (Papa's wife and my grandmother), I wandered away from her side. I hid under a rack of jeans.
Mama Jo frantically called for me. She even had the store manager go on the overhead system to alert shoppers to be on the lookout for a small girl named TRINITY.
A man looking thru the rack of jeans found me. He asked me, "Is your name Trinity"? I said, "No. I'm Robin".
Mama Jo just happened to be a few feet away from this exchange and she pulled me out of that rack of jeans lightning fast and proceeded to spank my butt all the way to the car.
That was the last time I was Robin.
Yesterday I stopped by Papa Bud's & Mama Jo's house for a visit. Papa Bud was having a horrible day. He had fallen twice and was a little shaken up.
While we were talking he seemed to have trouble remembering what we were talking about. This has never happened before.
His memory and mind have always been sharp as a tack.
I am praying this was just due to him being a little shaken up and upset by his falls and not something going on within his mind.
I left heartbroken. His heart disease and diabetes have robbed him of the use of his arms and legs. But I was always comforted that inside he still was Papa, even if he couldn't use his hands or walk with his feet.
His mind, his beautiful sensitive, detailed, wonderful storytelling mind was still Papa. And I am praying that it will remain so.
His hands are weathered by age. Diabetes and his heart disease have left them swollen and near useless. But when I think about my Papa Bud, my maternal grandfather, his hands are what I love most about him.
They are big for one thing. As a little girl I can remember reaching up for his hands and how they would swallow my tiny hand whole when he held them. It was comforting knowing that my big, strong grandfather loved me so much.
He calls me #1. I'm his first grandchild and he spoiled me rotten. To this day, besides my children, there is no one on this earth who I could love more.
He is the only man in my life to have never let me down. Ever.
He is the only person in my life who 'gets' me. He applauds my stubbornness. Almost sees it as a virtue. And we have a bond that transcends even my own understanding of love.
I lived with him for one year during high school. My grandmother was often out of town taking care of her elderly parents. So I decided to move in with Papa Bud. I would clean & cook for him. He would wake me up every morning for school with chocolate milk.
And even though he read my diary once and would sometimes slick his hair straight down the middle if he knew I was going on a date just to embarrass me, I loved that time in my life so much! Going to church with him, even going shopping with him were times I knew even at the age of 15 were to be treasured.
His health has slowly deteriorated. A man who worked outside in his yard when he wasn't earning a wage every day of his life can no longer walk to his mailbox.
His breathing is poor. His mobility gone. I am losing my Papa Bud. Diabetes and heart disease is taking him from me and my family in a slow, cruel, agonizing battle.
A few years ago, I bought him a journal. It was really a gift for me though at the time I didn't realize how much of a treasure it would become.
It asks him questions about his life. He filled it out and returned it to me within a week.
Along with the baby pictures of my children, it truly is one of my greatest possessions on earth.
When I read it, I laugh, I cry. I know what a treasure it is going to be to have this book with me when he no longer is.
Papa Bud is a very funny man. Some of the entries make me laugh. For example, he writes some good advice:
Never squat if you wear spurs. Never sneeze if playing hide and seek. Never drink from a creek unless you are upstream from the bull. Keep your mouth closed if you are underwater.
I am not a emotional person for the most part, but something about Papa Bud makes me very emotional. It has always been like that. I love him something fierce.
I save all of his voice mails to my phone. Every time I hug him, I hold on a second longer just in case. I have done this even before he became ill.
This man has been a gift to me. And I am honestly not sure how I will be after he is gone.
The song Brad Paisley recorded a few years ago sums it up, "When I get to Where I'm Going". Especially this part:
I'm gonna walk with my grand daddy
And he'll match me step for step
And I'll tell him how I missed him
Every minute since he left
Then I'll hug his neck
He wrote me a letter a few years ago. He knew I was having a hard time dealing with his illness. This is what he wrote to me:
#1,
I am going to try and answer your letter.
You said one day I would not answer the phone.
That is right and the way it has to be but don't feel sorry for me.
It is OK to feel sad. You have to get the sadness out of your heart to make room for the happiness and pride to follow.
The pride and happy feeling when your kids do well. When they are baptized. When they graduate.
And most of all when you see your first grandchild!!!So don't feel sorry for me. I have had a wonderful life.
Kids, grandkids. The love of a great family.
I wouldn't trade places with the richest man alive.
I know where I will go and I will be happy there seeing all my loved ones again and others will follow.
So smile and as Raini always say, 'don't worry, be happy'.
Love you,
Papa Bud
I love you Papa Bud. Thank you for teaching me about life, love, true happiness and preparing my heart for a future that will one day have us reunited!
On May 30th, 1868 Memorial Day was officially established as a way to remember and pay homage to fallen Union soldiers. It was originally called Decoration Day.
It was expanded after World War I to recognize and pay tribute to all fallen soldiers.
Flags are flown at half staff, graves are adorned with flowers, and war stories are retold passed down from generation to generation.
Today, Memorial Day is recognized on the last Monday of May.
Many people feel that giving it this date so that Americans can have a three day holiday has greatly diminished the true reason the holiday was established.
I agree.
How many of us remember a fallen soldier from the news? Unless your family has been impacted, do we truly care to remember their stories or names?
Maybe I was like that too. Until I read about Spc. Justin Allan Rollins and befriended his mom, Rhonda via myspace two years ago.
Like Rhonda, I too have two sons named Jonathan and Justin. Unlike Rhonda, I have never had to fear for my child's life in a far away country, or worse to lose my child to war.
Spc. Justin Rollins died on March 5, 2007 when an improvised explosive device detonated near his unit during combat operations in Iraq.
His men were assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 82nd Airborne Division, Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
Just one day prior to his death, Justin and his fellow soldiers had rescued a litter of stray puppies.
It amazed me how one can go from petting and loving on a stray puppy, to less than 24 hours later be killed in the middle of a war torn desert. But this is what war is.
It also amazed me that Justin CHOSE to go to war. He could have taken a recruiters desk job and still serve his country proudly but he would not leave his men. He did not want to send them into war without him. He was a proud soldier.
Is that true selflessness or what?
What made Justin's story even more remarkable was that his family made sure to bring home the puppy that Justin rescued.
They named the puppy, Hero.
Justin's fiancee, Brittney with Hero.
The Rollins family has been in my thoughts for the last two years. Justin's story is one that needs to be retold for generations to come.
Only in this country, the United States of America, do true heroes like Justin exist.
Justin left behind to mourn him his mother Rhonda, his father Skip, brother Jonathan and fiancee, Brittney.
An entire town has lost one of its own, an entire country has lost a hero.
Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.~John 15:13
Papa with Ashton & Tate 2008. This would be his last Halloween.
Papa with my Niece & Nephew, Lillie and Harley 2008.
