Thursday, December 16, 2004

The Funeral

It was today. It was the one of the two hardest thing I've ever had to experience in my life. Fair warning, this will be a personal post.

The first one is my Brother's cancer. A few years ago he was diagnosed with lymphoma (nod-hodgkins I believe), and it was hell. Being identical twins, in the end the "cure" came from some sort of blood transfusion thing, from me to him. I'm not a doctor, and I don't know the terms, basically he needed my white blood cells...something like that. Like I said, it was hell watching him deal with that every day. Having to drive two hours and be hooked up to machines for another eight almost killed him, in spirit if nothing else. But in that situation I could, and did, do something.

But there was nothing I could do here.

What can you say to a man, your own father, that will make him feel better? Or your uncles? Should you be strong? Hold your head up, tell them she's in a better place, that at least she isn't in pain anymore? Or should you mourn with them, cry your tears of regret and sorrow, and say how sorry you are? What do you tell three men who will never again see the woman that gave birth to them?

What do you tell your brothers and sisters when they say how much they regret not having seen her for the last few years? Tell them that she understood? Tell them it's okay, that they couldn't have been expected to come up with the money for a flight to Oklahoma? Or do you tell them they're right, that we all should've gone to see her in this last year of her life? After all, it was only money...

What do you tell your four year-old niece when she says she wants her Nannie to wake up? What do you say when she asks where she's going? Or, what's wrong with her?

What do you say to her sister, the only surving sibling left now?

What do you say to the friends and other family members who come to pay their respects?

Most of all, what do you say as you watch her coffin be lowered into the ground? You will never see this person again, what do you say?

I do not know. I don't think there are words to say. I'm not sorry she's gone, because this last year of her life was Hell on Earth. I do regret not seeing her, but I'm very happy I didn't see her in a hospital. I remember her as a woman who didn't need a tube to feed her, a woman that could remember who you were. I'm thankful for the times I have spent with her, and for her love and understanding in all of my most trying times. When I had no home, she gave me one, and with that she gave me hope. She was more a mother to me than my Mother. She was one of the few people who accepted me as I am in my life, never asking me to compromise anything for her. Yes, she was demanding for attention at times, but it was a small price to pay for such an unconditional love, and something I'm certainly glad I gave now that she's gone. My fondest memories in life involve Sunday afternoons in her trailer, watching a football or baseball game, falling asleep on her couch and waking up to some home cooked meals, and maybe a board game or two, or even a jigsaw puzzle. And that's they way I'll remember her.

I love you, I'll miss you,

-Your first grandson, Logan Polk

I thank you all for stopping by, and while I'd like topromise this place will resume it's sporadic updates, it's doubtful. I may get in a post or two before the new year, but it's likely that they will be of the same personal variety. So, I hope to start the year off right by my little blog and maybe have my life back to some semblance of normality. I thank you for your patience in these, my most trying times.


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