Sunday, June 16, 2013

A peak into "Five Year Old Death"

My foster parents had been getting worse in health for the past couple years and it worried us both a lot. My mom has already fought cancer and a car wreck that almost cost her, her life. She never has fully recovered from that wreck or cancer, forgetting things that you just told her had become normal. So it was very shocking when it was my dad who started going downhill badly. He had always loved playing on the computer with his games and now he was not even doing that. He was always so tired and napping a lot more than he ever had. But yet he was still playing in his yard and going up the road to see his best friend, as a matter of fact he went to see his friend now more than ever which was strange. My mom was taking him to the doctor a lot more now and she was getting more worried by the day. Me and John was just as worried but we did not say anything to her about it. We talked a lot now about when John was younger and the things him and his father done when he was a child. He talked a lot more about his brother that died also and how his brother had always wanted to be a truck driver. For anyone who really knew John they would know the reason he drove tractor trailer for a living was because he felt closer to his brother every time he sat in that seat. This was a way to show his brother that he would never be forgotten, this was a way to make his brothers dreams come true even if it was John in the truck instead of him. I know that his brother watches over him and takes care of him like he needs because of the faith John has in him. You could tell with the illness of his dad he was regretting things that he could never take back. He was missing all of the cookouts and hunting trips that he stopped doing when he got with her but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He got upset though because his parents would not come to his house often like he wanted them to. My foster dad had lost respect for his girlfriend years before when she made a snide remark about him using a spoon to eat with and it was more embarrassing than anything to eat in front of someone who felt like he was not a man over the choice he had when eating. The littlest things could set him off and for him that was a very big thing. So he just didn’t go! I do not think she has a clue how much that bothered him and hurt him, it pissed all of us off but for John’s sake we let it be. My mom took my dad to the doctor and they kept him in the hospital foe a few days but then let him leave saying the medicine would start working soon but it never did work. They said it was pneumonia and it would just take time for him to feel better. He wasn't getting better though so my mom had him go back to the doctor and they sent him right back to the hospital but a different one this time. He seemed to be fading fast now and me and John was so worried about him but also my mom because she was so worried and upset. We went to the hospital and John made sure she ate three times a day and got some rest. We would talk with each other and worry about my mom and dad but at first we still had hope that he would get better. He wasn't though, he was fading fast and all we could do is watch. We went to his house one day before we took my mom some food because she was trying to rest a bit and just held each other and gave each other comfort that could only be found in each other’s arms. The doctors had found something on my dad’s lung and decided to see what it was, what they found would change everything. He had cancer and it was already in stage four. There was nothing that could be done for him now but to let him rest and keep him medicated. We all wanted him home to spend the last days of his life which is what he also wanted also. My mom finally talked them into it and he was going to go home the next day. 

I got a call from John’s girlfriend and thought she had once again found out that we were talking but it was much worse than that. My dad was now home and hospice was going to show the caregivers what needed to be done so I needed to be there. I was shocked to learn my ex was going to keep our girls so I could be there with my dad until he got settled in and comfortable. Once I got to the house I realized that time was not on our side and the six months the doctor gave us would be so wrong. My dad’s fingernails were purple and the nurse asked us if we knew what that meant, me and John gave each other knowing looks but never made a sound to what we thought that meant. It was mere hours after everyone left that my dad lost his battle, a battle none of us even knew he was fighting until days before. My foster sister had just had a new baby and we made sure he seen that beautiful baby before he died. He would have loved her so much and done those crazy faces papas were known for. How sad to know what should have been the best time for my sister was going to be the worst. I had done my best keeping it together and making calls that needed to be made. I cleaned the house for company and tried to be there for my mom but it was so hard on me also. I felt so alone and it was times like now that I felt like the foster child. I know they lost their father and husband but I was hurting also. That was okay though because I was doing what had to be done, the same words I heard John tell me when he would explain why he had to stay where he was. I done what had to be done, god I already missed him so much! 

It was killing all of us, the thought that he was gone forever hurt our hearts and we knew that the person who kept us on track was now gone. My mom had just lost the love of her life and for a moment there we thought she was going to follow him into his grave. This is when I realized John’s girlfriend was as cold as I had ever thought she was. My mom was crying at the viewing trying her best to crawl into the casket with him. John and I was doing our best to get her to sit down and I looked around for a place to seat her when I saw his girlfriend roll her eyes, oh my god I wanted to bash her in the face. She thought no one seen her but I was not the only one to see what she had done. My mom had just lost the love of her life, the man she had spent forty eight years with and this woman was rolling her freaking eyes at my mom’s pain. What was a wrong with her? Was she really that cold? How could anyone see such pain and roll their eyes? Any kind of faith that I had in her really owning a heart was lost that day with my father! 

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