Thursday, November 13


So, my friend Roboseyo asked how I'm doing.

After getting home from work today I've realized that for the last few days I've been on survival mode.

At work our utilty companies decided it was time to blame each other for shutting down not one, not two, not three but ALL twelve of our phone lines, PLUS our internet connection! Its taken THREE days to get someone to at least say what's wrong and they are still blaming each other. Day two of the mess someone finally suggested routing calls to a cell phone. So, I was the lucky duck to answer all incoming calls on ONE phone (I'm not even going into how I managed to e-mail customers from home).

It was crazy, but you know what (and I know God was with me) I actually answered that phone with a good attitude.

BUT...I'm drained.


Through a nanny friend, I heard about a baby girl who is recovering from her second heart surgery within the span of her first year of life. My nanny friend cares for the baby and mentioned to the parents that baby was looking pretty bad lately. The parents took her to the hospital. Apparently, her lungs are not expelling enough CO2 becuase her diaphram is not healing properly. I feel horrible for the sweet little baby and am praying for her. If you think of her pray for her and her parents and her nanny.

Also, the fact that this little baby is dealing with what my Papa experianced the last few days of his life (too much CO2) strikes me deeper than I want. It conjours up difficult, yet somehow amazingly beautiful pictures I vividly remember from my last minutes with Papa.

I'll never forget the look on his face and his ash colored skin and the kiss I placed on his balding head, or his closed eyes, or rough scratchy voice saying "thank you God" over and over again. I'll never forget the difficulty he had making coversation- yet the feeling that he knew and loved us so much even in the last moments. I'll never forget the feeling of trying to hold on to the seconds. I'll never forget what he looked like walking from the hospice bed to his favorite chair where he sat and listened peacefully at the last songs he'd hear on earth. And I'll never forget the way he looked straight at me, as I stepped out of the front door and turned back to look at him- the last moment I'd see him. He gave me a sweet, happy smile. His eyes looking directly into mine, perfectly clear and perfectly aware. His look playfully communicated, "Love ya Jessie-poodle...see you soon."

Loosing someone I love is surely harder than anything I've experianced- yet is the strangest feeling too because sometimes i have so much peace.

Crying tonight and missing my Papa...looking forward to the morning.

1 comment:

Deb said...

Jessica - I remember so many little things about my mom. Thank you for sharing those little things about your Papa. I cried yesterday for missing my mom - I'm thankful God gave us tears so we could let some of our sorrow out.
I am still thinking of you and praying for you lots.