Goodbye Paw Paw

Paw Paw passed away recently. Over the brief four years that you knew him we managed to travel and visit him often. For the most part it was the majority of the weekends that you and I were together. He struggled with Parkinson’s and wasn’t able to fully engage you the way we knew he wanted to but it was clear every time that we walked in the door that your arrival was the brightest spot in his otherwise difficult struggle. Your ability to light up a room was on full display. You weren’t sure what to do with him at first but as you got older you learned to hug him and tell him how much you loved him. You sat by him on the front porch swing and held his hand on occasion.

He loved you so much. Thank you for that Evelyn.

At his visitation you insisted on walking up to his casket and seeing him. You asked to touch him which you did. You asked if he had legs because they were hidden by one of the casket doors. You asked if he was really there. I told you that he wasn’t. I said the spirit that made paw paw who he was is somewhere else now and that this body is just an empty shell. You handled it all very well but I could tell you were working to get your head around it. Heavy stuff for a four year old

You developed a relationship with death very early compared to most children around us. When you were 3 years old you liked to ask people about their mommy or daddy. Due to my age, most of the people around us had the same answer. “My mommy’s not with us anymore” or “my daddy passed away”. You would always ask “why?”. My mommy (your grandmother) died of cancer. Your mother’s daddy died from diabetes. “He didn’t take care of himself very well” you would say because that’s what everyone told you. JCobb’s daddy died when he was young and his mommy died around the time you were asking this question. John Hendricks’ mommy died of cancer and his daddy had just recently passed away after fighting Parkinson’s Disease, the same illness that you watched Paw Paw battle every time we traveled to Bardstown.

It was when you were questioning John in an italian restaurant called Buona Vita that I saw it in your eyes. This was starting to bother you. Something didn’t make sense about everyone’s mommy and daddy not being here anymore. You started to ask me about Axel and Peep’s mommy and daddy. You started to ask about everyone and everything’s mommy and daddy. Then one day on the way home from school you started asking if this or that person, or that tree, or that dog was gonna die some day. Everything that passed by your window as we drove along. I said “Yes Evelyn. Everything passes away eventually.”

There was a long pause.

“Daddy?”

“Yes Evelyn?”

“Will YOU die one day?” (shaky voice)

A cold chill came over me. I began to use my calming daddy voice.

“Evelyn, everyone passes away eventually but that’s a LONG time away.”

Another long pause.

“Daddy?”

“Yes Evelyn?”

I start to feel a mild panic as I realized what was happening.

“Will “I” die one day?”

I could only think of one thing to say.

“Evelyn, that’s a LONG time away.”

You burst into tears and cried the whole way home. I sat in the driver’s seat stupefied. I knew it was brewing in your head and it still caught me off guard. I just kept asking myself “how is it that she only started talking a year ago and now she’s grappling with death?” Self realization at 3 years old seems a little early, don’t you think? I had no relationship with death until my 20’s. I was clueless. I’ve always been acutely aware that whoever “I” am didn’t really come to be until I began to understand death. I spent the next couple of days watching you and trying to think through how to handle it when the subject came up again. You went to your mommies house for a couple of days and I got lost in life again. The next time I saw you I picked you up from school and you were talking about something or other and then you looked out the window and said:

“Daddy?”

“Yes Evelyn?”

“Is that tree gonna die one day?”

Crap! Here we go again. I forgot to think about my answer. I need to use my calming voice and let her know everything’s ok.

“Now Evelyn…”

You cut me off.

“Daddy?”

“Yes Evelyn?”

“It’s ok. I’m not scared of death anymore.”

What?

That was it. Crisis over.

After that for a period of time you started saying “I want you to be with me forever” and “I’m gonna take care of you so you can be with me forever”. You repeated it every time I saw you and you seemed pretty committed to it. You still say it on occasion. You moved from fear of death, to taking control of death. You’re just gonna “will it to be” it would seem. Of course this isn’t possible, and one day you’ll have to grapple with that, but for now I see it as a sign of strength that you’re staring death in the face and choosing to “own it” rather than “fear it”.

So this is life. You are on “this” side of death. The life side. It is certain that one day you’ll be back on the other side, and that’s ok you’ll own that too, whatever it is. But for now you are here, looking at the sun and the moon and the stars. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And you own it. You own what happens in this life, and when you die you own what happens in death, and if you return, you’ll own what happens when you return.

More than anything in my life, this life, I cherish that I’m the lucky guy that got to be your dad. I hope I can be here for you as long as possible. I hope I can see you into womanhood. I feel confident that you were placed in my care for a reason.