If Only

Here we are, two weeks past Pap's eighty-second birthday. He had seemed so vibrant and alive that it was hard to believe that his body was being ravaged by cancer, liver problems, diabetes, and old age. Pap, always with a story to tell. How often I longed to run away when the story telling began because they were generally long and drawn out. Now I see that I've thrown away my son's history in not concentrating and memorizing each tale. It's likely now that I will never hear them again. Eighty-two years of life and I didn't pay attention. I wish upon wish that I had taken that camera of mine out and video taped each and every story to preserve for posterity. How very selfish I was. This is the man who officiated my wedding. This is the man that my son is named after. This is a man who wasn't always a good man, but I think he tried.

Jamie will likely not remember him. They have shared nothing. He wanted so bad just to hug Jamie, but Jamie would have nothing to do with him. He just doesn't dole out affection easily. That's just the way Jamie is. The day I brought Jamie home from the hospital we went straight to Pap's house. I didn't even take pictures at their house on that day. I don't know why.

Pap was just in the hospital for the millionth time. His liver is shot and there is nothing more the doctors can do. They sent him home last night. A few minutes ago I got a call from my mother-in-law, Sandy. Pap has taken a turn for the worse. An ambulance was on the way to get him. I don't know if he'll make it through this time. He was calling Sandy his mother and calling my father-in-law, Larry, by one of his son's name. I remember my own grandfather doing this on the last day of his battle with the lung cancer that took his life.

It is sad when you have to say goodbye to a loved one. Pap has lived a long and fulfilling life. He's traveled the country and built churches. He's built houses and communities. He's had wild times and lots of love. He's had ups and downs. He made belts and wallets and sold them at flea markets. He idolized John Wayne. He fancied himself a lot like him. He loved to sing and he loved to preach. Sometimes it seemed a bit strange to me when listening to his stories that this man seemed equally proud of the brawls he had been in as he was the churches he built. That's just Pap, though. Oh, if only I had paid more attention.