Friday, September 16, 2011

We'll Miss You.

I'm writing it while it's still fresh. I think that's the best thing to do.

I had just woken up Wednesday when Daniel's phone dinged the familiar tone alerting him of a new incoming text message. He casually got up from the floor (where he was playing with Jenaleigh) to go check it. I asked who it was and he said, "Your mom." I saw him immediately call her; I knew something was wrong.

I can always tell when a text message or phone call is about to be the messenger of bad news. When my Dad called two weeks ago after Uncle Tim's surgery, I knew something was wrong. Sure, he did his best to make small talk when I answered, asking me how I was doing -- how Jenaleigh was doing. But then he told me. When they opened Uncle Tim up for surgery for his blockage, they saw the cancer had returned and spread. Pancreatic Cancer.

So, back to yesterday morning's text. It said something to the effect of "Daniel, call me soon. It's about Tim.". So, he did. It was during that phone call that Mom told him that Uncle Tim was having kidney failure and that the doctors only expected him to live for another 24-48 hours. This was four weeks after he had been put into the hospital for a stomach blockage. We thought that's all it was. We thought the cancer was gone for the time being. We thought his kidneys were fine.

We packed up and went to Jackson to see him one last time. When we arrived, Daniel and I left Jenaleigh downstairs with Mom and Dad while we went up. After our short visit with him, Daniel headed home with Jenaleigh while I stayed.

We knew he was going quickly when his blood pressure began to drop around 5:00. His 22 year old son, Richard stayed by his side from then on -- I'm sure he didn't even take a break to go to the bathroom. He stayed -- holding his dad's hand until he took his last breathe. His dad whom he adored. And his dad who loved him so dearly.

My heart aches for my cousin. My cousin who shouldn't have to be dealing with all he's dealt with in his short life. My cousin who shouldn't have to know the pain of losing a father so young. I hurt so bad for him, but as I told him last night --- God alone can provide us with the ultimate comfort.

As we stepped into the hall a few minutes after Tim was gone, we heard the familiar melody of Brahm's, Lullaby. A baby had just been born. The circle of life at work yet again. Souls leave this earth and souls are born into it.

We'll miss you, Uncle Tim.

Our Uncle Tim

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