Letting Go

On January 21, 2025, my Daddy was buried in the Georgia National Cemetery with full military honors.  During the processional from the funeral home to the cemetery there was an Army insignia on the hearse.  We were escorted through three counties by Law Enforcement.  As we made our way north from Kennesaw, cars pulled off the road and there were several who saluted.  It was a fitting send off for the “Old Vet” with a two-man honor guard, a military chaplain and the playing of Taps. 

We also had a Celebration of Life shortly after he died at the Church he had attended in Alabama.  His children, grandchildren and great grandchildren are so scattered we wanted to give everyone the opportunity to celebrate the life of Granddaddy.

I am now back home in Phoenix. 

In my last post, I reminisced about being Gramma and how my life was changing because my Phoenix family was moving.

On September 10, I went to visit them in their new home in North Carolina.  I was only there a couple of days until I got a call that my 103 year old Dad had fallen and broken his hip.  This was something that all of us, including him, had feared.  At his age, we knew that this could lead to Nursing Home which was a huge concern to him.  My older son once said “Granddaddy is not afraid of dying, he is afraid of what happens from today until then.”

Daddy had a small studio apartment in an Assisted Living Facility and it was home to him. 

Cognitively, Daddy was still functioning well and in the hospital he was talking with the doctors and making decisions about his care.  His Grandson was with him to make sure he understood, but it was Daddy’s choice to have hip replacement surgery as soon as possible.  The doctor had explained that if he did not have surgery he would be bed ridden and in constant pain.  To Daddy that shouted nursing home and he would rather take the risks of surgery.  I got there right after he came out of surgery. 

Thus started the long road to December. 

Daddy, along with the rest of us, worked hard in the hospital and rehab and to get him back “home”.  We accomplished that and he healed well from the hip surgery.  I spent about nine weeks with him from September until he passed away peacefully in December.  My brother relieved me and my son and his family continued to be supportive of Granddaddy. 

We were his caregivers and advocates.  We were determined that regardless of final outcome, he would live his best life.  Unfortunately, by early December, we knew his decline was most likely too much for him to overcome.  By that time he was on Hospice.

He took his last breath on the morning of December 18^th.  He and I had discussed that he was dying and for several days he gave us instructions on what he wanted done.  One of the things he wanted was a military burial; his ashes were to be buried in the National Cemetery in Canton, GA.

My brother and I had decided that each of us would speak.  My brother spoke of our childhood and what a good Daddy we had.  He spoke of Daddy’s wisdom and his love for people, his integrity and his fairness. 

I spoke of the last weeks I spent with him.  This is what I said:

“The last four months before Daddy died, I was fortunate to be able to spend a lot of time with him.  For this I am very grateful.
We drank coffee and ate ice cream. We watched Andy Griffith and Car shows, we talked about trucks.  He talked about how much he had enjoyed riding in his old truck with Brian and left specific instructions for Brian to take care of the truck.  We talked about brakes and rotors.  He said he liked my truck and was glad it was American made.  He was sad he would not be able to ride in it.
We sat on the porch and watched a gecko run up and down the banisters.  We filled the bird feeder and watched the birds.  We looked out the window at his whirligig.
We went to exercise class together and I met his friends.  We ate chili at an afternoon social.  We went to music and sang gospel songs.  We welcomed groups from local Churches who came by for Christmas visits. 
I went with him to doctor’s appointments and watched him take PT. 
We talked about him dying.  I had promised him sometime back if he was dying and I knew it I would tell him.  Hospice told me it was time.  He handled the conversation calmly.  By that time it was difficult for him to speak, but he went over instructions and how he wanted things done.  He asked if there was enough money to cover costs of his care and reminded me he had prepaid for his funeral!
He had set goals.  He wanted to attend the Pearl Harbor remembrance where he was being recognized on 12/7 and he wanted to celebrate his birthday on 12/30.  He worked very hard toward these goals and so did we.  Thanks to Brian and Michelle, he made the Pearl Harbor Remembrance. 
He was twelve days short of celebrating his birthday. 
This is not the outcome we had hoped for, worked for and prayed for.  But Daddy accepted it and was mentally and emotionally strong until the end.  So we must be strong too. 
One of Daddy’s favorite gospel songs says “Some glad morning when this life is over, I’ll fly away.  To a home on God’s Celestial shore” He is there now.
I was with him when he took his last breath.  He was calm And Peaceful.  I love you Daddy.”

I miss him every day. 

I am trying to Let Go of the sad times and think about only the fun, the love and the wisdom.

I don’t cry, that would hurt too much. But there are things that bring tears.  Small things, like a reminder that pops up my calendar to order meds for him or the cuckoo clock that I brought home that ticks behind me.  He loved clocks and I now have three of his favorites. 

I try not to dwell on the end.  I have wondered what I could have done that might have changed the outcome.  But in my heart I know that we did everything we could and so did he.

Daddy showed me again and again how to accept what is and not complain.  It is a lesson I will spend the rest of my life trying to learn.

He was ready to go but I was not ready to give him up.   I will always long for one more laugh with him, one more phone call, one more milkshake, one more time to fill the bird feeder, one more Barbeque sandwich, one more Varsity Chili Dog, one more time to watch “Pride and Prejudice” or Alabama Football or a NASCAR race with him.  I long for his advice on investing and managing money.  I want to talk to him about trucks or home improvement projects or hear his war stories again and again.

I will have his WWII M1 Garand Rifle.  He bought it about six months before he died.  It hung on his wall and he enjoyed showing it to everyone.   I am not a “gun person”, but I am making arrangements for me to fire it one time, in his memory.   

We had a long run. I had to physically let go; I don’t want to ever mentally or emotionally let go of my Daddy.  He is so much a part of who I am, I would not be “me” without him!

My Mama told me years ago when I was leaving after a visit “if you come back and I am not here, I will see you on the other side.” 

I will hold on to that until I see them both again.