Ba-Ba

George Lee Green passed away today, although it was technically in the early morning hours of September 10th.  Still, today was the day we knew the battle was over with, although even until the end we refused to give up on our faith that he would have a miraculous comeback.  Mommy and Nana were with him at the very end, the only ones really allowed to be there anyway, and the there to hold his hand as he passed away.  It was a nearly three in the morning when Mommy called up to let me know he was gone, and that was that.  

We always thought he'd come back, as he was still remarkably alert in his thinking, focused, trim, fit, and disciplined.  He was playing tennis not long ago, walking along the beach with us just a few weeks ago, and laughing with us just a few days ago.  His life was cut short by something that destroys so many others, and there's not much any of us can do to stop it.  Words fail when trying to describe the evil that is cancer, and our immense hatred of it.  It took Uncle Dave and now our precious Ba-Ba from us.  It stole so much from Mommy, and so much from our families.  

The day started out upbeat, oddly enough, and we were happily talking with Mommy, praying together, and talking about having a nurse or medical assistant coming to visit and take care of Ba-Ba in the condo when he got back from all this.  His blood count was increasing steadily, although in very small increments.  And we just never put it in our mind that there'd be any other outcome in this but a completely turnaround.

But Mommy called in the morning, and it was a painful video call.  It hurts so bad to even think of it now, Mommy's tortured expression, tears freely flowing, as she said he just looked terrible.  She had called her brother and told him to come as soon as possible.  Mommy already felt it in her spirit, perhaps.  

They stayed with Ba-Ba all day, and exhausted, they left at around 10:00 or so, and got home, completely wiped out.  But I got a call in Georgia from the nurse at 10:30, and it was meant to be for Zena.  The call was for the two of them, Nana and Mommy, to go back to the hospital.  There wasn't much time.

No scripture can really cover this one.  We have the one about trusting the Lord and leaning not on our own understanding, and we have the book of Job, where we realize we're not God, and we aren't capable of understanding.  And that's where I usually leave things, because it's much better than trying to rationalize any of this.  It makes no sense, and we are hurting.  We live in a fallen world, and Jesus told us that things like this happen to the just and the unjust.  That doesn't help with the pain, perhaps except to know that when he saw how people reacted to the death of a loved one, their true genuine pain within, the Bible says that "Jesus wept."  And I think that when he sees us in such anguish, I think he weeps for us still.  Of course, there is another side to all of this, and it's a side we cannot see.  It's where Ba-Ba is right now, and where Lazarus was.  Ba-Ba is no longer in pain, and quite happy in heaven, anxiously waiting for us all to get there.  I know his spirit so well, and I can picture him there now, possibly singing a little song to himself as he gets busy helping out where he can.  I can see him reunited with others, having conversations and catching up.  And that's what I find myself doing frequently, thinking of things I want to tell him when I get to see him next.   I know it won't be that long, really.  In the grand scheme of things, it's never that long.  So I make mental notes about the tennis tournament this weekend, and imagine stockpiling all these things I want to talk with him about when we meet again.  And right at the top of that is how crazy this week is, and yet how I promise we'll take care of your wife for you.  And I think you know that.  This past Sunday, your very last words to me were of gratitude for coming down with Mommy and for taking care of Nana.  I'm not sure what Madison's last words were with Ba-Ba, but I told her to do her best and make them good ones.  

I am being completely honest when I say this:  I can't remember a single flaw in this man.  He may have muttered an aggravated complaint about this or that in the past, but that was so rare that I can't even tell you right now when that last occurred.  Instead, my only memories of this man are of love, of hard work, of patience, of all the Fruits of the Spirit.  In bed this week, he still exercised his toes, still trying his best to keep moving.  And that's what he did his whole life:  he kept moving.  He kept doing things, making lives better, and showing love.  His wife's declining mental facilities have been so hard to keep up with, even for someone without cancer.  Yet battling stage four cancer, he still fought hard to keep her feeling secure and loved.  He hid so much pain from us.  He hid the pain of losing his favorite dog Shadow, a dog that died the very day we arrived to visit from Florida.  Rather than spoil our visit, he kept that a secret, bearing the pain alone.  He thought of others first, and God only knows what he was enduring all this time, not wanting to make us feel worse.  He bore that all because he loved us, and that was evident throughout the entire time that I've ever known him.

Madison has had two of the greatest grandfathers ever.  Maddie, you just don't understand how remarkably and richly blessed you were to have Ba-Ba as a grandfather.  Though the distance to Florida, and this evil virus kept us apart this past year, he still reached out to you, time and again, reaching out to you.  You can still hear him laughing, hear him saying at the end of every night, "Good night George!"  He was talking to a stuffed animal that he thought should be named after him instead.  And of course you'd correct him with "Good night Jeremiah!"  And the two of you would laugh at a joke that's been running over the last year or so.  Just tonight, just for tonight, let's let that one pass.  Good night, George.  

It is indescribable how you will be missed, and hopefully that's a start in explaining how much of an impact you made upon us.  We were robbed today, and something was stolen from us.  It will seem surreal without you here, but I will continue to stockpile my conversations I intend to have with you, saving them up for that day we will meet again.  Until today, that's been a vague thing, a thought of meeting people in heaven that you know and love.  Some day all of us will be there together, where there is no sickness, no death and no sorrow.  And sure enough, I've always looked forward to that happy moment very much.  But not until today have I truly, deeply craved it with all my heart.  We can't wait to see you again, Ba-Ba.  It's as if a lighthouse on Daytona Beach Shores has gone out, and this whole world has suddenly become a lot darker.