Everyone has that year where their life takes a complete 180. Where it takes you away from everything you’ve ever known and forces you to adapt to permanent changes. I’m here to tell you about my personal experience. The particular point in my life that changed me forever.
My Poppy was a very respected man. Always so hardworking, caring and so genuine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man without a smile, he never had a bad day. He was always so happy to see you, he even had a song he would sing:
“It’s been many ears since I seen ya, (tugged your ears). Glad I still nose ya! (pinched your nose). Glad to see ya back! (patted your back)"
Around November of 2012 he became very ill right before the holidays. His heart was failing, but he never let it phase him. You never would have known there was anything wrong with him. He was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and that’s when it all started.
While my Poppy was fighting, my Nannie fell and broke her hip, and she was admitted to the hospital. During this time, they didn’t see each other because neither of them were physically able. But I promise you, they talked on the phone every day. Two days later, my Nannie had to have surgery to fix her hip, and she made it a point to tell the surgeon, “I want five more years with my husband, you got that?”
My Poppy had gone downhill by this point, he was fighting so hard, we knew it was just a matter of time. But all he kept saying was, “I’m not going anywhere until I see Tommie.”
Once he heard that Nannie was out of surgery and was going to be OK, it was like he fell into a slumber. While my family surrounded him, we got word that it wouldn’t be much longer. We came to see him every chance we got, he was never alone. That Sunday, the phone rang and it was Nannie, we put the phone to Poppy's ear, he heard, "Hello William." His eyes opened and talked to my Nannie. They exchanged words of, "I love you," and he closed his eyes.
William Dale “Poppy” Jones, passed away January 7, 2013.
My Nanny was always known as the strong one. She has made it through just about everything you threw her way. She was very giving, kindhearted, strict and definitely hard-headed. Shortly after Poppy passed, Nanny was admitted to a nursing home in order to recover and begin physical therapy after her hip surgery. It just so happened to be the nursing home I worked at as a CNA. So, I spent my lunch break with her every day, I walked down there to take her to physical therapy and helped her with scrapbooking.
One day, I went to her room to check on her and she wasn’t there. She had gained 30 pounds of fluid and had to be admitted into the hospital. Becoming immobile, due to the her surgery, caused her lungs to fill up with fluid. No matter what they did, they couldn't get it to go away. One night, my mother called and told me that I needed to come to the hospital. Naturally, I got in my car and got there as fast as I could. By the time I got there, my mom met me at the door of Nanny's hospital room. She didn’t say one word. I was too late, I didn’t get to tell her goodbye.
Tommie Lynn “Nannie” Jones, passed away February 28, 2013.
My Papaw loved the finer things in life, but lived for the simple things. His snicker was the thing I loved most about him, and that’s how you always knew he was up to something; he was such a prankster!
Two weeks prior to my Nannie being admitted to the hospital, my Papaw had been rushed to the ER with shortness of breath. So yes, my Mamaw had both her mother and her husband in the same hospital at one time. Papaw was at first diagnosed with BOOP Pneumonia (Bronchiolitis obliterans organizing pneumonia) and was in the hospital for over a month.
He did get to come home for a short time before his O2 stats dropped again and my Mamaw had to call 911 to take him back to the hospital once again. They had him on a machine called a BIPAP that was helping him breathe, but then one morning, as I stood in the kitchen with my parents, my mom's phone rang. It was my Mamaw saying that we're taking Papaw to the ICU and putting him on a ventilator. The BIPAP machine that was helping him breathe, stopped working. He was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. The fibrosis had taken over his lungs. Basically, his lungs were like concrete and there was no air flow.
At this point, Papaw had become lifeless. He was getting to where he didn’t speak anymore and wouldn’t open his eyes. The ventilator was doing all the work. The doctors said he wouldn’t recover. It really hits you hard when someone that was so full of laughter and always cracking jokes, no longer does so. We were called to make our final goodbyes, for we decided to take him off life support. He went to be with his best friend, my Poppy.
Gary Buell "Papaw" Atkins, passed away April 9, 2013.
During all of life’s changes, I quit my job and I decided to move to Houston with my aunt and uncle. With everything that has happened, I couldn’t handle my job anymore. I felt like I was reliving the past four months every single day. Every little thing took an emotional toll on me, and I couldn’t do it to myself anymore. A lot of people told me I was running away from my problems back home. But to me, this was an opportunity for me to cope and find myself. I figured out a lot about life, about who was actually there for me and who wasn't. Even though I missed home, I really did love my time there.
I was there for two months. One night, I got a phone call from my mom and dad. They said, they really didn't want to tell me over the phone, but my Pepaw was diagnosed with Stage Four Lung Cancer. I couldn't believe it. It seemed like every time I found a little bit of happiness, life came right back at me. My life, was a nightmare that I could not wake up from. My Pepaw was a very simple man. He was quiet, his family and providing for us was his life. It's what he loved to do. He was so protective, he never let anyone hurt me. He was my best friend. You see, I was his first grandchild. Two weeks before I was born, he bought a new truck. He told my Granny he needed it to take me to the store to get candy and Icee's. My mom told me that the first year of my life, my Pepaw would come over everyday at 4 p.m. on the dot to see me. Even if I was sleeping, he would wait for me to wake up so we could play. He took care of me my whole life, and now it was my turn. I had made up my mind that I was coming home.
That next week, I left Houston. I couldn't be miles away from him while he was battling cancer. I wanted to be with him every step of the way. He was changing and it didn't take much time. The cancer had spread all over his body. He was so skinny and weak. It got to the point where I had to go over there so he would eat. I've never seen him like that before. I stayed the night every chance I could. Pepaw had gotten bad. He couldn't walk anymore, the cancer spread to his brain and he was not himself. He was put on hospice with not much time. The nurse told us it would be surprising if he made it through the night. My entire family fell asleep in the living room. I was then woken up only hours later...
Grady Woodrow "Pepaw" Cummings, passed away October 15, 2013.
I remember every detail like it just happened yesterday. I can’t tell you how it feels. Honestly, it was a blur. We didn’t have time to grieve because everything happened so fast and all at once. I felt like I was just going through the motions. I can’t tell you how my family and I made it through. But I can tell you, that this experience made our family closer and stronger. We found out what it was like to solely rely on each other. And we figured out real quick that we’re all we needed in the world.
When everything was happening, I could not for the life of me figure out why God was doing this to me and my family. Why he would take four people in such short period of time that we looked up to and loved so dearly. I prayed every night, asking God to save them, save the people that taught me every little thing I knew about life. There was a point that I was actually mad at God because I truly didn’t understand. Turns out, He did save them. He took away the hurt, He cured them. They may not be here physically, but I would be lying if I said they didn’t still take care of me and my family. Little did I know, He was making them into warriors.
