The funeral

Nana got me up at the crack of dawn. Fortunately, she had a cup of coffee and a huge breakfast ready for me. I have the feeling that having to take care of Papa every day for over a year is a hard habit for her to break. We had a few hours to go before we had to be at the church for the funeral. Thanks to friends and family, there was very little to do around the house and very little that Nana would need from the store. So, we sat and talked for a while.

Nana asked how I was holding up. I was seconds away from asking her the same thing. I told her that this whole experience seemed all too familiar much like I've been reliving my father's death from fifteen years ago. This began a long discussion about that time.

The whole time my father was in the hospital, I felt as if I was the only one holding out any hope that he would get better. Over the years, I've thought that I was just being a naive little kid who didn't understand what was happening. As Nana and I discussed what happened, many things became clearer. Most importantly was that I was in denial all that time. Deep down, I knew there wasn't anything that could be done to save him. What it all boils down to is that I've been bullshitting myself for years.

And the thought of that brought on the bigger realization that I've held the same philosophy towards every bad situation in my life, like I've always been waiting for the plane to pull out of a dive, right up to the point that it crashes into the ground like a dart. It was that way through the last months of high school, waiting for that one moment where Grace would realize she was wrong about me. It was that way with my ex-fiancee, which ended up being way too little way too late.

All my life, I've been running away from the painfully obvious by feigning ignorace. With Papa...for the first time in my life, I've faced the pain head on, and the jury's still out on whether I'm a better man for it.

It was really cloudy this morning, but the clouds parted just in time for the funeral. All of us entering the church took notice of this, almost as if it was magical. The service itself was brief by Catholic funeral standards. Henry, my cousins and I-the pallbearers-all sat quietly with tears streaming down our faces. Nana looked rather stoic, only occasionally dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

As we carried out the casket, I noticed Nicky, Grace and Ben sitting in the back row. I gave them all a so-glad-to-see-you-but-I'm-a-little-busy look. I noticed them later at the cemetery while I was sitting with the family. I kept looking over at Grace, feeling a bit guilty for not having called her in several days, even thought the reasons were obvious.

At the reception, therte was a huge buffet that barely covered everyone who showed up. We each took a turn telling stories about Papa. I almost opted out of this activity, given that many of my stories about him are either about teenage angst or of him in the hospital. But then I remembered our last conversation. It really summed up how intuitive, how direct, and how delightfully tactless that man was. I miss him so much.

I stepped outside to have a smoke, sitting alone on a concrete bench. I closed my eyes for a while and when I opened them again, Ben was standing in front of me, and behind him, Grace. I said hi to Ben and stood up to give Grace a hug. not really knowing what else to say, I gave them the standard thanks-for-coming line that I've gotten used to saying over the past couple days. Grace said they couldn't stay long because she was due back at work. So, I walked them back to their car.

While saying goodbye, I suddenly got a grasp of everything I left back in Tulsa. My job, bills to pay...hell, I had totally forgotten about Cody, my cat. With my mind now flooded with all this stuff I have to do, It took me a moment to snap back to the present and say goodbye to Grace. I gave her a hug and a brief kiss and she was on her way.

I stepped back inside and spent time with the family. When things started to wind down, I helped clean up and drove Nana back to the house. It was 3:30 in the afternoon at this point. I declined Nana's offer to stay for dinner and packed up my stuff to head back home. I gave Nana a big hug and told her to call me if she needed anything. Then, I hit the road.

I had the radio off the whole trip. The last thing I needed on a day like this was to distract myself with whatever drivel the radio was gonna play. I thought about Papa, Nana, about the choices I've made in my life, and how everything is changed forever. Both my father and my father figure are gone, existing only in my memory. In many ways, I still feel as if I've betrayed those memories, but I also feel redeemed for those betrayals. I don't know. I'm still trying to sort it all out.

So, I'm home now. Cody managed to survive by ripping open the huge bag of cat food and, I assume, drinking from the toilet. The only trouble area was the litter box, which was filled to the bursting point. For a moment, I almost called the HazMat team in, but instead held my breath, dumped it all out in the dumpster and hosed the room with Lysol. But Cody was glad to see me.

I called my boss at home and told him I'd be in tomorrow morning, and apologized for all of the time off. He told me that things were a bit hectic, but the managed. The servers were fixed, nay upgraded, and everything should be just fine.

Now, I'm gonna get some sleep and ready myself to return to the life of Declan MacManus, already in progress.

The Wake

I've been running around all day helping Nana with the last minute preparations for the wake and the funeral. I never got a chance to show her the pictures I had enlarged, and when I brought them up before the wake, she began to cry. She went over to touch them and traced the outline of Papa's face with her fingers. I have no idea why, but I felt I had to apologize for the poor quality of the enlargements...I knew I could've done a better job if I had done them back at the office. She interrupted me and told me they were perfect. I hugged her and we both had a good cry.

Henry and I and all our cousins greeted everyone as they showed up for the wake. Relative I hadn't seen since I was little, and they all reminded me of the fact.

My uncle approached us and handed each of us a poker chip, telling us to leave it with Papa in the casket. As we made our way throught the line to view the body, everyone was leaving a chip in the casket. I joked to Henry that we should be honored that we got the black $100 chips, when many of the extended family were given the red five dollar chips.

My parents never really brought my brother and I to church vary often, so when the priest led us through the rosary, I felt a little better knowing I wasn't the only one completely lost. Perhaps one of the best things about this situation is that you can always fall back on your grief to cover for your complete ignorance of the precessions of faith.

After the wake, we all went back to Nana's (gee, it's weird to not say 'and Papa's' with that) for some leftover fried chicken and poker. To mark the occasion, we left an empty chair for Papa.

On my way to the guest room to get some sleep, I slowly passed by all the family photographs. Everyone had their own section of the wall, but I noticed that mine was the smallest one. It would be selfish as hell for me to point this out to Nana, but it's not hard to see why. I really wasn't around that much. In fact, the last photgraph was from when I was sixteen, and the only way I knew that was the fact that my hair was jet black in the photo (from a horrible goth dye-job).

Once in the room, I emptied my pockets onto the vanity and about a dollar's worth of change fell behind it. I moved the vanity away from the wall to retreive the money, but got side-tracked by a slip of paper I found. It was my father's report card from tenth grade. His GPA was almost as bad as mine back then. Papa never even got that far in school. I guess in some respects Papa was right. I'm just like my father, and his father before him.

Papa's hat

Yesterday was a day for all of us to let it all sink in. Friends and family came to offer their condolences by way of bringing us massive amounts of food. Maybe it wasn't such a good thing that there's a KFC just down the street from Nana and Papa's house because there's enough fried chicken in this house to feed a small army.

Today was all about preparation. The wake is scheduled for tomorrow night, and I had a lot to do. I've been digging through photo albums all day looking for photos to get enlarged to put on display. If I was back in Tulsa, I could get the whole thing done in a couple hours, but not having access to all that cool graphics equipment I was forced to go with the do-it-yourself photo enlargement kiosk at Wal-Mart. I cost nearly a fortune once I got the frames and everything, but I feel better having done something, anything to help out.

I also went out to buy a new suit. I have never owned a full suit, and this really wasn't the right occasion for me to mix and match from my existing wardrobe. When I got back to the house, Nana took one look at the suit and went back into Papa's closet and produced a dusty old fedora. She dusted it off with her hand and immediately we were both sneezing like crazy. Once the dust cleared (he he he), there was this hat that perfectly matched my new suit. Papa has had this hat since the late fifties, and aside form the dust, it looked like it was in perfect condition.

Nana ceremoniously placed the hat on my head, and it fit perfectly. She urged me to wear it to the service. I'm still quietly debating whether I should. While it is a wonderful tribute to Papa, I'm not sure I want to be the only guy at the funeral wearing a hat.

In Memoriam

At 10:32 this morning, Edward Dorian MacManus lost his battle with prostate cancer. He passed away quietly surrounded by his family. He was a great man, a loving husband/father/grandfather/great-grandfather, a soldier who served his country in the Korean War, a proud son of Ireland, and a true friend to all that had the pleasure of meeting him. He was 72 years old.

Mended fences

I spent the morning with Nana in the hospital room, talking about family history. She and Papa have been married for over fifty years, but today I learned that they've known each other their whole lives. Their parents had lived down the street from each other in the same small town their respective ancestors had founded. Their two families came over from Europe in the same boat. Their wedding marked the union of two great families, two parallel paths finally joined into one road. You could say that Nana and Papa have literally been together forever.

I've always believed that love is something that would just make sense. You wouldn't know it until you see it. I can see now that I was wrong in believing there was just one way. In Nana & Papa's case, some times love and marriage is just a natural progression, as if soul mates aren't made, but grown.

Nana used this as a segue way to talk about Grace. I haven't given our relationship much thought lately, given the circumstances. But thanks to Nana, maybe I should. Nana's curiosity on the matter concerns me, but then again, I'm the only one of her grandchildren who isn't married. I need to make it abundantly clear that now is not the time for me. There are times that I wonder if a new relationship is something I really need to be worried about now. Some wounds from the last one are still pretty fresh.

I left the hospital with Henry to go have dinner. We talked for about two hours airing out a lot of what has been left unsaid over the years. Back when we were kids, we were constantly at each other's throats over anything and everything. I guess it took us both thinking about having to lose Papa to realize that we're family, and that we should mend fences while we can.

I asked him what he thought about what Papa told me about being a third generation pain in the ass. He agreed with the assessment. Henry was sixteen when our father died, and he knew a lot more about what was going on than I did...that is to say he knew more about our father than I did. When I think back, I really didn't spend as much time as I should have with him before he died. Henry said that it's sometimes hard to look at me because I am so much like our father.

Once we got back to the hospital, we both went in to check on Nana and on Papa. After a few minutes, I excused myself to go outside to call Grace. She kept asking me about how things were going, and I couldn't really steer the conversation to be about "us". I figure that was for the best, though. I've had too much thinking for one day.

Panic, drive, panic, drive, panic

I fell asleep on the waiting room couch last night. I was too exhausted to even dream. I remember closing my eyes, and the next thing I know hours had passed, it was morning and Henry was waving his phone in front of my face, saying I had a call.

It was my boss. The servers had fried out overnight and everything we had was lost. He was freaking out. Fourteen hours earlier, he told me everything was covered for the meeting tomorrow...now this. A power surge in the entire building fried a lot of the circuitry. What about the automatic backups, I asked. They only work with that exact brand of server, and replacement parts might take a day or two.

Then, the good news came to me. Last Wednesday, I copied the files over to my laptop to do a little work on them at home. I had the files with me right here.

"GREAT!!! Can you email them?" Hell, no! 381 Megabytes.

"Can you upload them to our FTP site?" Forgiving the fact that I have only a dial-up connection, and that even on a high-speed connection, it would take two hours. Besides, do they have access at the moment? "Um...no."

Shit. All this rested on me. I needed to drive back to Tulsa and copy the files over for them. I grabbed my laptop and went into Papa's room. Nana and Henry were there with him. I have Henry back his phone and told them all that I had to drive back to Tulsa for a few hours, but I'll be back this evening. I lean in to give Papa a hug. He fiddles around with his oxygen mask, trying to take it off with his shaky hands. Nana was quick to smack his arm. "Quit messing with that damned mask!"

Papa looked over at her with the evil eye. As hard as he could, he made a fist and waved it at her. She just shot him a who-are-you-kidding look. He lowered his fist and looked at me, frightened, as if to say "Help me out, here?" I straightened his mask and kissed him on the forehead.

"I wouldn't mess with her if I were you." I told him. "You've been married to her for fifty years, you should know that by now. Love you, Papa. I'll be back later."

I grabbed the rest of my stuff and drove back in record time, only stopping to pick up some coffee and a phone charger for my car. I let the phone charge for a while before I called ahead to the office to let them know when I'd get there to save the day (and my job).

Once I got to my office building, I started up the laptop in the elevator. My boss was pacing the hallway when I got to my floor. He was relieved, but still a little keyed up. We walked-well, I walked, he ran ahead of me clearing people out of my way-to my office. I set down the laptop on my desk and plugged to power cord into the wall outlet. My boss came unglued "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He reached down and unplugged the cord and careful re-plugged it into a surge protector.

I told him to calm down. "I have spent the last three nights sleeping in a hospital waiting room. Wanna trade scars, here?"

I got connected to the network and copied the files to two separate computers, just in case. My boss assured me that my christmas bonus would be HUGE. As a sure sign of gratitute, he handed me a fifty.

The job was saved, and I left the office to thunderous applause from my co-workers. I went back to my apartment to take a shower and grab some more clothes for the next couple days. Once back in the car, I got a call from my brother. He asked when I would be back, I told him two hours and asked him why. Papa had just suffered a seizure.

I drove back as fast as I could, and got to the hospital an hour and 45 minutes later. A new record. I rushed to the ICU and found everyone in the room. It was soooo quiet in the room. I gave Nana a hug and held her hand as she prayed. I couldn't believe this was happening. I was a hero to my co-workers two hours ago, and now I'm preparing myself for the worst.

Third generation pain in the ass

My uncle recruited me to help clean up the house for Nana. I thought it would require just a little straightening. When we got out to his van and there was a steam cleaner in the back, it was clear that I had been Shanghaied.

We got to the house, where my aunt and two of my cousins were already hard at work cleaning every square inch of the house. I staked my claim on the garage. I figured that was the easiest room...just moving around boxes and organizing some tools.

What it became was a trip down memory lane and a learning experience into who Papa really was. Every box was labeled in his handwriting, and not Nana's. She hardly ever went out into the garage.

There was a box of old ledgers (that man kept notes on EVERYTHING in his work). One box was full of postcards letters from his time in the war and times he spend away from Nana working contract construction jobs up north. Another box was full of old pull tabs from the Cherokee Casino. Then came the big shocker. Underneath everything were five boxes, each marked with the names of me, my brother and each of my cousins. I went straight for my box. Inside were items from my entire childhood. Toys I used to play with, photos from holidays and family reunions, etc. In the bottom of the box, was a black journal. MY black journal. The one that I threw at Papa when we had our big fight years ago. I flipped through the first few pages and came to one conclusion: I wanted to go back in time and kick my own ass. Geez, I was a moody little shit.

"I see your cleaning technique hasn't improved much." I heard coming from behind the stack of boxes behind me. I peered behind them and it was my brother Henry. I hadn't seen him since last Christmas. I made a half-assed attempt to jump over the boxes and gave him a hug. We got caught up while he helped me get through all of the boxes and finish cleaning the garage.

Henry really wanted to get down to the hospital, so I offered to drive him there. On our way, we stopped to get a bite to eat at Ed Walkers. Our dad used to take us there every couple weeks for french dips and root beer, which is what we both ordered without looking at a menu.

We both chatted about our lives, how it's been so long since we seen each other, how I need to get over to see him and the kids (and vice versa). We were both in a kind of a rush to get to the hospital, but then again, I had a feeling Henry wasn't quite prepared for what he was about to see in that hospital room.

Once we actually got to the hospital, Henry was in the same state of deja vu I was two nights ago. In the hallway, passing the ICU ward that our father was in years ago, he paused and asked "Isn't that where-" I interrupted him, "Yes, it is."

Just before we entered Papa's room, Henry took a deep breath. I put my hand on his shoulder and told him it'll be alright. I knew those words were a bold-faced lie, but it seemed like the right thing to say. We walked in in just enough time to see Papa throw the finger pulse monitor across the room again. Another slap on the arm by Nana straightened him out again. I went over to give Nana a hug while Henry talked to Papa.

After a couple hours, I got the nagging suspicion that I was forgetting something. I stepped out in the hallway to check my messages, but the battery was completely dead. Maybe the gift shop had a charger, or at least a phone card...then it hit me. I have a brother in the next room that works for a cellular phone company...The odds were good that he had a national calling plan.

I borrowed his phone and checked my messages. Two from Grace, one from Sid and one from my boss, asking if I was coming back for the meeting on Tuesday. SHIT! That's what I was forgetting. I called him back and gave him the low-down. I could come back, but I really didn't want to leave Papa. I gave him all the passwords to my computer and my files, and told him everything that needed to be done for the meeting. I owe him, big time.

I went back to the room and offered to stay with Papa so that Nana could get some sleep. She declined, but said she'd like to go get some dinner. Henry offered to take her out somewhere. They left me alone with Papa, who was taking a nap and snoring away. I sat down in the chair at his bedside, accidentally knocking over Nana's knitting bag. It's amazing that something that is full of yarn could make so much noise when it spills on a linoleum floor.

Papa woke up. It took him a couple seconds to realize what was going on. He looked over at me and said "Hi." He asked where Nana was, and I told him. After that part of the conversation lulled, I told him that we were all at the house today cleaning up for when he can come home. He immediately called me on my bullshit. He knew he wasn't coming home.

The time for me to tell him what I needed to tell him. I told him how I found the box in the garage, and about the journal. I couldn't tell if he was playing dumb or if he honestly couldn't remember. I reminded him nonetheless. I wasted no time in saying I'm sorry. I told him I loved him and that I wish I could take back everything I had done and said. With a shaky voice, he asked me to sit down.

"All is forgiven." he told me. "You were a moody little kid, and I'm not gonna pretend I don't know why. Your father was the same way, and he was just like his own father. Your grandmother will back me up on this, Declan. You are a third generation pain in the ass. It's in your blood, sonny."

I tried to tell him that I still feel like shit about it regardless. He was quick to shut me up about it. "It's alright, boy. No need to say anything more. Now, if you really want to make it up to me, get this damned catheter out of me."

I replied, "If that's what it takes, I may have to leave this unresolved."

He laughed and called me a pussy. I was cracking up. I sat down, took his hand and told him, "I love you, Papa."

"I love ya' too, boy. Now, shut the hell up and let me get some sleep."

He fell asleep just as Henri and Nana were getting back. I left to get some coffee, and went back to the family roomMy uncle and cousins had just shown up. I chatted with them for a while, then hacked into thte phone line again to update the blog.