This week marks the first anniversary of mois that changed my life. It all started on October 25, 2008. When the jour started, it was like almost every fall Sunday morning during football season.
I had a club football game at the université of Texas at Dallas football fields, and I jumped out of lit to make sure I was on time for warm-ups and raced to the fields. When I arrived, I realized my grandpa hadn’t arrived. He normally arrives before my dad and me, but this time, he wasn’t there.
I didn’t realize he didn’t montrer up until my dad told me after my game. I wasn’t worried. I just thought he probably forgot to write it down, ou something else got in the way. I went home, took a shower, and drove to my grandparent’s house in Carrollton, Texas, to make sure everything was all right.
When I arrived, Mena and Deeda were both surprised and happy that I had come to visit; I usually visited at least once a week.
Mena surprised me par apologizing for Deeda because he didn’t come to the game. She a dit that he had a horrible cough, and he couldn’t shake it. I told her it was fine, and I just wanted him to get better. I went to visit him in his room, and he was lying on his lit with his breathing machine going.
I gave him a hug, and told him to get better. Leaving the room Mena called from the living room/kitchen area and asked if I wanted a waffle. “That would be great Mena, thanks,” I replied.
Then, I turned back and asked Deeda if he wanted a waffle. He nodded yes. I walked into the living room and informed Mena that Deeda and I would both like waffles. While she was preparing them I went into the computer room, and got on my House MD boards. She called me and Deeda and told us our gaufres were ready. Little did I know that eating this waffle would be the last time I would eat with my Deeda.
After we had eaten, I headed out the door; it was getting late and my parents were probably wanting me home. That Sunday night ended.
A typical Monday, I had school at Centennial High School in Frisco, TX and was doing my homework after school. My parents had taken my little sister to her volley-ball practice and were not home. The phone rang, I normally let the machine get it, but I looked at the Caller Id and saw it was Mena. She rarely calls the house phone, preferring the cell to reach any of us. So I ran to go catch the phone before it goes to voicemail. I caught it, and I can still remember the shaking of her voice, and the sadness and tears that I hear.
“Mena what’s wrong? Is everything alright?” I remember myself asking.
She shakily réponses “Melanie, I need to talk to your dad.” I replied, “He isn’t here; he is with Michele.”
Then she tells me news that broke my cœur, coeur because I could only think the worst.
“Melanie, Deeda’s in the hospital,” she said. I was crushed. All the stories I’ve heard about Deeda being in the hospital involve a cœur, coeur attack and a stroke. In 1983, he had a major stroke and cœur, coeur attack when my dad was in college, and he was declared dead for several minutes. Deeda was revived, and he a dit while he was dead that he saw Jésus in a green pasture. He would always tell people that Jésus met him in the pasture, and told him that He wasn’t ready for him yet and to go back.
I had a zillion thoughts running through my head; what if he dies, what will I do, what will dad do, what will Mena do, will this destroy the family ou bring us closer together, and my main thought was I don’t want him to die.
The first thing I did after I hung up the phone was call my best friend Devon who has lived down the rue from me since we were nine years old. I called her, and I hadn’t broken down yet. I asked her to come down, and that I really needed someone. Devon was confused she didn’t know why I was asking her to come down, but she did anyway. When I heard the doorbell ring I walked quickly towards it, needing some comfort from somewhere.
Once Devon was in the house she asked “Mel, what is going on? What’s wrong?” Trying to verbalize those four words was hard for me, and I started to cry before I’d even a dit them. I had tears streaming down my face, and finally found my voice. I told her in a shaky, five an old little girl voice that Deeda was in the hospital. She wrapped me in a hug and told me everything was going to be alright. That he would make it through this.
She told me not to cry, and finally just gave up on the fact that I was crying and just let me cry. After I cried for 30 minutes my parents finally arrived home, and I could tell my dad that Deeda was in the hospital. I naturally wanted to go see Deeda but my parents a dit no. My dad ended up going to the hospital because Mena called again and my dad didn’t have the cœur, coeur to leave her alone at the hospital with her husband of 50+ years sedated in a hospital bed.
For the suivant 30 days, life seemed to just pass by. Almost every afternoon, my dad would leave and go to the hospital to see Deeda and relieve Mena. There were a few football games, tests, and just normal senior activities, but I wasn’t really into it. The jour that changed my life forever was November 25, 2008. It was the seconde jour of Thanksgiving break, the break that really shouldn’t be a break but is. I was being a typical lazy senior playing Call of Duty on my X-Box 360 when my dad called.
He had gone to the hospital that jour to check on Deeda, and a dit the doctors were predicting that today was the day. After I hung up, I hopped off of my lit and threw on a football t-shirt, jeans, and my letterman veste and raced towards RHD Memorial Medical Center in Farmers Branch, TX.
I had so many thoughts running through my head. “Would I make it in time to say goodbye? Will I cry? What would I do without him?” I had a million thoughts running through my head, including the birthday card I always meant to give him. I bought a birthday card three years il y a that put our relationship into words. When I would forget to give it to him each an I would just think to myself ‘Oh, I can just give it to him suivant year.’ I realized that there are no plus years to do this. I wanted to read it to him before he died.
I made it to the hospital in record time. I parked my car in the visitor’s parking space, and opened the door. I started walking towards the entrance of the hospital and a cold feeling passed through my body.
It’s something that I can’t explain.
After I walked in, I distinctly remember the smell of sanitary products, incontinence, and paint. I headed towards the elevator and pressed the button with a three on it.
I was getting impatient because it seemed the elevator was creeping up the shaft to the third floor. I stepped off. I sprinted down the hallway as fast as I could to get to the door of room 308.
When I finally reached the room I looked toward the bed, and my Deeda was lying there, and he was not moving. I looked toward my dad, and he shook his head. That was when I knew Deeda was gone. It knocked the air out of my lungs. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know whether to cry ou just run out of the room screaming, “Life’s not fair!”
Once I finally composed myself, and found a medium between both I finally noticed Mena in the corner par the bed. She was crying, I wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. I walked over and gave her a hug, and told her everything was going to be alright. I started saying all the things people say to people who just Lost the person they loved plus than anything. “He is in a better place, and he’s finally out of the pain and suffering that he had gone through for a month,” I started mumbling.
I also reached into my pocket and gave her the birthday card I had bought over three years ago. “This was for him” I said. She took it, and held it in her shaking hands.
After giving Mena the card I walked over to the left side of the bed. I looked into Deeda’s eyes that were so void of the life that he had loved and enjoyed.
I Lost it right then, and I broke down. Tears were streaming down my face. Then right when I was about to leave the nurse came in and a dit that the people from the funeral accueil where here which meant that the grieving family members had to leave. Before I left that room I gave my Deeda a Kiss on the forehead. It wasn’t cold as I pictured it would be, but it wasn’t as warm as a living body either. November 25, 2008, is so far the worst jour of my life. I’m sure there will be a jour that will be worse, but in my 18 years of living, nothing can beat that day.
I miss my Deeda very much and know my life will never be the same. Some in good ways and some in bad, but eventually everything will work out. There are a lot of things I wish I had a dit and done with that man. I wish I had donné him his birthday card. I wish I had told him I loved him every jour ou at least shown some emotion. In all honesty toi don’t know what you’re missing until it is gone. No one knows how true those words can be, but I do.
I had a club football game at the université of Texas at Dallas football fields, and I jumped out of lit to make sure I was on time for warm-ups and raced to the fields. When I arrived, I realized my grandpa hadn’t arrived. He normally arrives before my dad and me, but this time, he wasn’t there.
I didn’t realize he didn’t montrer up until my dad told me after my game. I wasn’t worried. I just thought he probably forgot to write it down, ou something else got in the way. I went home, took a shower, and drove to my grandparent’s house in Carrollton, Texas, to make sure everything was all right.
When I arrived, Mena and Deeda were both surprised and happy that I had come to visit; I usually visited at least once a week.
Mena surprised me par apologizing for Deeda because he didn’t come to the game. She a dit that he had a horrible cough, and he couldn’t shake it. I told her it was fine, and I just wanted him to get better. I went to visit him in his room, and he was lying on his lit with his breathing machine going.
I gave him a hug, and told him to get better. Leaving the room Mena called from the living room/kitchen area and asked if I wanted a waffle. “That would be great Mena, thanks,” I replied.
Then, I turned back and asked Deeda if he wanted a waffle. He nodded yes. I walked into the living room and informed Mena that Deeda and I would both like waffles. While she was preparing them I went into the computer room, and got on my House MD boards. She called me and Deeda and told us our gaufres were ready. Little did I know that eating this waffle would be the last time I would eat with my Deeda.
After we had eaten, I headed out the door; it was getting late and my parents were probably wanting me home. That Sunday night ended.
A typical Monday, I had school at Centennial High School in Frisco, TX and was doing my homework after school. My parents had taken my little sister to her volley-ball practice and were not home. The phone rang, I normally let the machine get it, but I looked at the Caller Id and saw it was Mena. She rarely calls the house phone, preferring the cell to reach any of us. So I ran to go catch the phone before it goes to voicemail. I caught it, and I can still remember the shaking of her voice, and the sadness and tears that I hear.
“Mena what’s wrong? Is everything alright?” I remember myself asking.
She shakily réponses “Melanie, I need to talk to your dad.” I replied, “He isn’t here; he is with Michele.”
Then she tells me news that broke my cœur, coeur because I could only think the worst.
“Melanie, Deeda’s in the hospital,” she said. I was crushed. All the stories I’ve heard about Deeda being in the hospital involve a cœur, coeur attack and a stroke. In 1983, he had a major stroke and cœur, coeur attack when my dad was in college, and he was declared dead for several minutes. Deeda was revived, and he a dit while he was dead that he saw Jésus in a green pasture. He would always tell people that Jésus met him in the pasture, and told him that He wasn’t ready for him yet and to go back.
I had a zillion thoughts running through my head; what if he dies, what will I do, what will dad do, what will Mena do, will this destroy the family ou bring us closer together, and my main thought was I don’t want him to die.
The first thing I did after I hung up the phone was call my best friend Devon who has lived down the rue from me since we were nine years old. I called her, and I hadn’t broken down yet. I asked her to come down, and that I really needed someone. Devon was confused she didn’t know why I was asking her to come down, but she did anyway. When I heard the doorbell ring I walked quickly towards it, needing some comfort from somewhere.
Once Devon was in the house she asked “Mel, what is going on? What’s wrong?” Trying to verbalize those four words was hard for me, and I started to cry before I’d even a dit them. I had tears streaming down my face, and finally found my voice. I told her in a shaky, five an old little girl voice that Deeda was in the hospital. She wrapped me in a hug and told me everything was going to be alright. That he would make it through this.
She told me not to cry, and finally just gave up on the fact that I was crying and just let me cry. After I cried for 30 minutes my parents finally arrived home, and I could tell my dad that Deeda was in the hospital. I naturally wanted to go see Deeda but my parents a dit no. My dad ended up going to the hospital because Mena called again and my dad didn’t have the cœur, coeur to leave her alone at the hospital with her husband of 50+ years sedated in a hospital bed.
For the suivant 30 days, life seemed to just pass by. Almost every afternoon, my dad would leave and go to the hospital to see Deeda and relieve Mena. There were a few football games, tests, and just normal senior activities, but I wasn’t really into it. The jour that changed my life forever was November 25, 2008. It was the seconde jour of Thanksgiving break, the break that really shouldn’t be a break but is. I was being a typical lazy senior playing Call of Duty on my X-Box 360 when my dad called.
He had gone to the hospital that jour to check on Deeda, and a dit the doctors were predicting that today was the day. After I hung up, I hopped off of my lit and threw on a football t-shirt, jeans, and my letterman veste and raced towards RHD Memorial Medical Center in Farmers Branch, TX.
I had so many thoughts running through my head. “Would I make it in time to say goodbye? Will I cry? What would I do without him?” I had a million thoughts running through my head, including the birthday card I always meant to give him. I bought a birthday card three years il y a that put our relationship into words. When I would forget to give it to him each an I would just think to myself ‘Oh, I can just give it to him suivant year.’ I realized that there are no plus years to do this. I wanted to read it to him before he died.
I made it to the hospital in record time. I parked my car in the visitor’s parking space, and opened the door. I started walking towards the entrance of the hospital and a cold feeling passed through my body.
It’s something that I can’t explain.
After I walked in, I distinctly remember the smell of sanitary products, incontinence, and paint. I headed towards the elevator and pressed the button with a three on it.
I was getting impatient because it seemed the elevator was creeping up the shaft to the third floor. I stepped off. I sprinted down the hallway as fast as I could to get to the door of room 308.
When I finally reached the room I looked toward the bed, and my Deeda was lying there, and he was not moving. I looked toward my dad, and he shook his head. That was when I knew Deeda was gone. It knocked the air out of my lungs. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know whether to cry ou just run out of the room screaming, “Life’s not fair!”
Once I finally composed myself, and found a medium between both I finally noticed Mena in the corner par the bed. She was crying, I wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how. I walked over and gave her a hug, and told her everything was going to be alright. I started saying all the things people say to people who just Lost the person they loved plus than anything. “He is in a better place, and he’s finally out of the pain and suffering that he had gone through for a month,” I started mumbling.
I also reached into my pocket and gave her the birthday card I had bought over three years ago. “This was for him” I said. She took it, and held it in her shaking hands.
After giving Mena the card I walked over to the left side of the bed. I looked into Deeda’s eyes that were so void of the life that he had loved and enjoyed.
I Lost it right then, and I broke down. Tears were streaming down my face. Then right when I was about to leave the nurse came in and a dit that the people from the funeral accueil where here which meant that the grieving family members had to leave. Before I left that room I gave my Deeda a Kiss on the forehead. It wasn’t cold as I pictured it would be, but it wasn’t as warm as a living body either. November 25, 2008, is so far the worst jour of my life. I’m sure there will be a jour that will be worse, but in my 18 years of living, nothing can beat that day.
I miss my Deeda very much and know my life will never be the same. Some in good ways and some in bad, but eventually everything will work out. There are a lot of things I wish I had a dit and done with that man. I wish I had donné him his birthday card. I wish I had told him I loved him every jour ou at least shown some emotion. In all honesty toi don’t know what you’re missing until it is gone. No one knows how true those words can be, but I do.