The Older We Get the More Funerals We Attend
Nov 12 '00 (Updated Aug 21 '05)
The Bottom Line The spot God had prepared for them.
Death is the one thing no one can escape. It surrounds us everyday and at times gets closer to us than we like. It all started for me when I was a kid and mom and dad took my brother and me to all the family funerals. First it was the great-grandparents and went through the great-aunts and uncles. I was really too young to understand and only regarded death as I was taught. The older ones said they were going “to their spot in Heaven.” “The spot God had prepared for them” was the way it was explained.
Death became very real to me back in 1971. I was only 16. The news hit me hard. My first love (when I was 14) had taken her own life. Even though our flame had been extinguished for sometime, I remember the phone call and even at the age when my “manhood” was sprouting, I wept all night. At the funeral I held it all in. Not a tear, nor whimper, I felt I had cried enough. After the funeral and reminiscing with friends it was time for the hour-long drive home.
Somewhere during that trip I reverted back to those few short months that she and I were “in love.” I remembered our first embrace, our first kiss and the two hour phone conversations with fifteen minute pauses of silence, except for the background music from my old hi-fi (Cat Stevens where are you now?) and I wept more. I remembered the joy she instilled in my heart and I remembered “my first love.” But it was still “the spot God prepared for her” which helped me cope.
Death plagues us all and if there were a real place to run from it I would have found that place in 1982. That year devastated me. That was the year I lost Ab to heart disease. James Albert Hughes, a man with only a fourth grade education and more common sense than any person I know today. He was my grandfather and the only man I admired as much as my dad.
You see Ab was not just my grandfather, he was a man that set me on the path of real values. Truth, honesty and just being proud of who you are. He taught me things like your signature means; “you are only as good as your name.” Whether that was to a $5,000.00 bank note or a $5.00 gas bill (on credit) your name was good for the payment.
He taught me a person should have good work ethics. “If they have the money then you need to please them” are words I would constantly hear. He also taught me that house painting was something I absolutely abhor, but milking cows could be fun.
Ab was in a nursing home the last couple of years of his life and it is said that I was the only one that could coax him outside “to see the light of day.” We would sit on the porch and talk about those summers I had spent with him and about those odd jobs he would take me to. All the while knowing it was only a short time until his end was hard, very hard.
When the phone call came I was at work and the family had declared that we should gather at the funeral home for the “family night.” The funeral would be the following day. Somehow I could not bring myself to leave work that afternoon. I still don’t know if it’s the work ethic he instilled, or the fact I just didn’t want to face reality. Again, I dealt with death with the words “the spot that God had prepared for them.”
Fast forward to 1998 and within two months I not only dealt with the death of a grandmother, but my mom found her spot in Heaven also. Which brings me to my title The Older We Get the More Funerals We Attend. Both my grandmother and Mom suffered from heart disease, but grandmother died of cancer. Had I been closer to my grandmother I might be able to capture you for a while longer, but instead I will turn to Mom.
I digress to 1980 when Mom had her first episode and literally traveled into death’s hands. She complained only of flu like symptoms to the point that dad carried her to the ER. While there and being treated she suddenly “flat lined.” Dad was the only one in the room at the time and called for assistance. It must have been God’s plan because the help was there when it was needed. Mom survived, but with only half a heart.
Can a person live with half a heart? You bet, and they can do a very good job of it. Mom made it through 18 years with two angioplastys and two open-heart surgeries. She lived life to it’s fullest, but the last three years were not so kind. Those three years helped prepare me for her final step to “the spot God had prepared for her.”
I am very grateful that I was able to spend her last Thursday on this earth with her. While dad was having his second angioplasty I took care of mom. I was able to cook for her and we had one of our best talks ever that day. Although I left her that evening walking on a cloud, I knew she would soon find “her spot”.
The call came that next Monday telling me she was in trouble and when I learned that she was at the funeral home confusion took me. As I opened the heavy door I saw that Mom had taken that final step. She was lying in the floor covered by a sheet and the paramedics were with dad. Her death really symbolized her life because it came only seconds after finalizing her funeral arrangements. She was prepared.
Heart disease seems to run in our family as it has found its undiscriminating way into me. I guess I’m carrying on the family tradition, but in my most profound words “please don’t cry for me”.
I’ve made it to the ripe young age of 46 and that is eight years longer than it could have been. It hit me in the face at only 38. Why do I say “don’t cry for me?” It’s simple. It’s my choice to live for the moment and not the future. While I was in the CCU I asked my doctor whether I should be looking for quality or quantity of life. His words were “we all want to live as long and as well as we can.”
I have chosen quality of life for the simple reason of enjoying my time on this earth to its fullest. I know my choice will probably cut my years, but at least I will live my life and not one dictated by current conditions. I am my mother’s son.
The day will come when we all take that final step to “our spot.” When my day has passed I only want to be remembered for the man I was. Just know that I am in a better place and all I ask is “don’t cry for me” because I will have found “my spot God has prepared for me.”
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Epinions.com ID:
slick4591
|
|
Member: Dennis Hughes
Location: Farmersville,Texas
Reviews written: 40
Trusted by: 132 members
About Me:
BBQ and fine dining caterer.
|
|
|
© 1999-2009 Shopping.com, Inc.