Written by Judith Blakley
(can also be read on www.lovelaceway.blogspot.com)
There are days in life where you truly know it's one for the record books. One of the hardest days in your entire life. Even though all of us have tough days, there are but few real hard days in each of our lives.
I've had a few - real true hard days.
I measure these record days as times when I've had to go through one of the most difficult things I've ever endured. These days usually involve the pain of others. But once it was because of my own physical pain.
Thursday, September 27, 2007 was one of those days.
My previous days of record were the day my father died, the day I learned my father-in-law had cancer and the day I was in the hospital thinking I was dying.
In May 1994, my father died and I was the one who had to tell my mother. Telling my 48 year old mother that her only love had suddenly died of a heart attack, out in the woods, the day before his 52nd birthday was the roughest day on my personal record books.
It was a Saturday, and I was at church, starting a leadership class. The class was still gathering when my Pastor and friend answered the phone and my husband told him what he was about to tell me. My father was several hours away turkey hunting on a friend of a friend's property.
The friend and the friend's friend had been mushroom picking and passed my father on his way into the woods. Apparently, my father collapsed a few feet later and died of a massive heart attack. He'd had a triple bypass a few years prior to his death, but refused to have a pace maker installed when he needed it. These men dragged my father's body as close to the road as they could until the ambulance could come, but there was nothing anyone could have done, he had already passed when the men got to him.
It was a couple hours later that they were able to get to a phone to call my house. They did not want to tell my mother over the phone, so they asked my husband to tell me and have me tell her. So I was the one who got the news over the phone. I could tell that something was wrong and I forced my husband to tell me right then and there. As the mother of three children, when you hear pain in the voice of your spouse, you have to know it's not your children. So it was my father.
It has been thirteen years and I can still see my mother's reaction to the news. Her wails and screams and banging the walls are forever etched in my mind.
The following days, weeks and even months were the toughest I've ever been through. Some of that time is blacked out. I have lost some of my memories.
This summer, I learned my father-in-law has cancer. It is one that can be treated and possibly defeated and since it was caught early enough, his prognosis is good. Regardless, the word cancer is not one anyone wants to hear - especially in conjunction with a loved one. Since my father's death, I have grown very close to my father-in-law and love him dearly. I could barely get the words out when I sat my husband down to tell him the news. My heart ached with sorrow. I know what it feels like to lose a father, and even though I know that my husband's father is going to be okay, it does not take away that pain of potential great loss. I never want to have to tell someone else news like that again.
I had two gall bladder attacks in one weekend, but did not know what was happening. All I knew was that I had to be dying because I had never endured that much pain, even in childbirth. This happened in February 2006. The first attack was bad, but the second one was where everyone had to try to convince me that I was not dying. I was literally - and I kid you not - screaming in the emergency room. Screaming for someone to help me. Screaming that I was dying. The doctor was ticked at me, but it was not my fault. He should have given me something stronger for the pain, or he should have knocked me out. Instead, he ran some tests and left me in that little room dying. I could go on, but a week later I had my gall bladder removed and that put an end to the pain.
Which now brings me back to this current event. Thursday, September 27, I drove my daughter, two grandbabies and son-in-law to the airport. My son-in-law is a paratrooper fighting in Afghanistan and he was fortunate enough to get sent home for R&R near the time of the birth of his first child. Because the birth was imminent, they extended his R&R a few days and gave him until one week after the birth of his child. So I had to see this heart wrenching scene unfold. Their good-byes.
Since they got married shortly after my oldest granddaughter's birth, he is her daddy and he intends to adopt her once he returns from war. They could not get everything done before he left in February. So my 23 month old granddaughter has been relishing in having her daddy home for a few weeks.
The separation had been tough on their marriage and they fell desperately back in love with each other during this short reunion. After the baby was born last week, my son-in-law seemed to be walking on air and staring at my daughter as if she were an angel sent from heaven. He could not keep his adoring eyes off of her. He was so sweet and caring. She has a very low red blood cell count and unable to do the slightest of things. He joyfully waited on her as if she were a princess.
Watching my son-in-law, this tough army guy, with his newborn baby was one for the heartstrings. He was gentle at first. Then he started playing with her as if she were a doll. He was still gentle, but he'd put her in poses and laugh like a kindergardener.
I found myself driving this adorable family to the airport. My daughter with her newborn baby and new baby blues having to say good-bye to the man she needs and loves. Sending him off to war, not knowing for sure what his fate will be. My 23 month old granddaughter who is too smart for her age, understanding enough of what is happening to plead with her daddy to take her with him. My son-in-law having to stand in line to board a plane while he kisses his girls repeatedly and holds his daughter to his heart.
He got in and out of the security line several times. The discomfort of the other passengers who were watching this scene with me was palatable. I was glad. I wanted these people to experience something that would stay in their minds forever. Our troops are human beings. They have families. They leave their newborn babies, wives, toddlers and loved ones behind to go and lay their lives on the line so we can live as we so choose. Our military families sacrifice so the rest of us do not. I was glad these few people would know this.
Last night, after my son-in-law called to let his wife know he made it to Kuwait, I held my daughter while she wept. "It's not fair" she said. "I know it's not fair" I said. I thank my daughter for her sacrifice for our country. The least I can do is be here for my daughter and grandchildren. Hold my daughter when she cries. Comfort my granddaughter when she wakes up screaming for her daddy. Take care of my son-in-law's family so he can concentrate on being safe.
Yes, Thursday was a very hard day.
