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As of tomorrow around 1pm, Addy will have been around as long as I was in high school. As long as I was at Randolph-Macon. I remember how in both cases it always seemed like nothing would last as long as high school did, or indeed that college would last forever (thanks to 3 degrees, that nearly was the case). But there is something powerful about the four-year mark. We do so much within four years that it makes a nice yardstick.





Obviously a lot has happened in four years, but I'll spare you the Family Ties flashback episode and just sum it up into the very fact that Addy is a precocious and precious little woman who is very much her own person. She's clearly influenced by us, but it's nuanced and very deliberate on her end. That which she does not like does not pass, but that which she does is plucked and incorporated into her being. She'll look to me and say, "Daddy, you like that" at the same time that she turns her own nose up to whatever activity, food or item it is on her own accord. She sometimes whines but always interacts, wanted or no, like it was her job. She's careful and reckless all at once.

Four years ago Corri was tooling around Target, hoping the walking would help (it did) but it was the spazzing out over a number of bizarre coincidences at home later that night that started labor. By midnight we were in the hospital, but it'd be more than twelve hours before Addy really started to appear.





In four years we raised a little girl whose photos hint at the young woman she is and will become -- it's pretty incredible and terrifying all at once. I'm really happy my grandmother and Addy got to know each other, and that grandma held Addy on her first day home. I'm happy that I mercifully finished my PhD by the time Addy was 4, as required by blood-oath (I finished academic requirements in December and this weekend I walk across the stage to be hooded and puffy-hatted). I'm happy that we haven't compromised who we are to become parents, but rather struggled and (hopefully) succeeded to make who we are part of our gift to her. I'm happy we have managed to expose Addy to our close friends who remain influential in our lives, even from afar- and I'm equally happy that they have shown her who they are so that she can enjoy them as much as we have and continue to. I'm happy. Period.

Cheers Addy. You're everything.

Love,
Dad




(You have to click this photo- it's terrifyingly cute and prescient of who she will become.)

The trip is over. Addy and I returned from a whirlwind three days of flying, waiting, crying and celebrating. Addy was a trooper.

The family was fabulous. I really re-connected and it was wonderful to see the children of others my age, now taking the family mantles, playing with Addy. We rekindled a lot of friendships. Addy got to hold a baby goat.

One family member, the one who was crazy to begin with and we expected nothing more than more crazy from-- was crazy. She went so far as to actually try to witness to people during the viewing. She was dripping with Oral Roberts Essence, as she complained that her 8th husband had to cut short his trip to Siberia to convert the unbelievers in order to drive her to the funeral (I'm not making this up).

The viewing was great. Addy was a charmer and hugged and kissed everyone. She took to saying that "G(r)eat G(r)andma is sleeping" when she saw someone looking to the casket.

The funeral was difficult. It began with Grandma's favorite song, the hymn, "How Great Thou Art." That was tough to hear. I can still hear my grandmother humming it. And all the issues with the lone crazy family member melted away. And I realized why: Because when she hears the "thou" in that song she thinks of God. And I think of Grandma.

After the funeral, a few of us hung around as we collected the photos of Grandma from the table and just unwound before the reception (read: party) at our dear friends and relatives house. The photos were primarily the twenty-plus tomes that my mother had painstakingly created for my grandmother. While it served, now, as a way for many of the Florida relatives to see what grandma's life was like in Virginia the last five years, these books were originally created in reaction to her first few strokes. Mom would make a book of photos from every major activity and go over them with grandma to help her remember what just happened and what happened recently. As she worsened, they became just warm memories of people she couldn't remember the name of; and eventually, they were books for her nurses at Walter Reed Convalescent Center to thumb through when they were in checking on her oxygen.

As everyone milled out, only my parents gathering books, two of our closest friends Suzanne Dees and Angie Coble, myself and Addy remained in the sanctuary. We were surrounded by outstanding, fabulous flowers. They were all so colorful and helped to calm us from the striking sight of the casket. The two that stood out the most were the collection of more than three dozen roses on top of the casket; and the only white flowers in the entire melange, an awesome bouquet from a dear friend who held grandma with a high regard and was a wonderful care for my own feelings. We let Addy take a stem of the white flowers and she held them close to her face for hours after.

We began to leave. Mom, Dad and I spent a tearful last moment at Grandma's casket. We gathered everything in our arms, including Addy, and began to walk out.

Addy wiggled free. She ran up to the casket and pulled up on the silver rail to barely see over the edge, the white flower bending for the ride.

"Bye bye geat gandma. I love you." She darted back to us, who had a hard time not losing it all over again.

We spent the next six hours reminicing and reconnecting. On many occasions, including from my Grandmother's only living sibling, the 96 year-old Aunt Reba, it was remarked how much Addy reminded everyone of my grandmother Hildred Good, whom we had just bid goodbye to at the service. The next day (this morning) Addy and I began our trip back. My parents drove to Miami where Grandma was buried next to her first husband (my grandfather), all of her 7 passed siblings, her parents, and my mother's first husband. They buried her alone, with no service. My Mom has been immeasurably strong.

--

I'm not sure if anyone wanted to hear about all this, but I wanted to write it. Corri remained at home, battling Ferrum for the Environmental Symposium, and her heart was surely with us as we could feel her warmth. Addy was good for me only because of Corri's influence on past flights.

I cannot more sincerely thank everyone, all friends and family, for your outpouring of support and love. Seriously everyone-- even those I barely know who have written or even thought of us-- it helped. And a new chapter is about to begin.

Friends,

At 12:15pm today, my grandmother passed away. She was at peace, although last night was apparently rough. At 10:23am this morning my Mom called to tell me that Grandma was not doing well from a stomach virus- the same kind that's going around everywhere right now. But, at less than 100lbs and on oxygen, her body couldn't take it. She was asleep when she passed, two hours after my mother called.

Everything still needs to be figured out. Arrangements are being made. The main service will be in Williston, Florida-- her main home for so many years-- but she will be buried in Miami near my grandfather. We will be flying down for with Addy for the Williston service.

Thank you so much-- so immeasurably much-- for the strength you've given me and that I've been able to subsequently give to my grandmother. For 93 years she was the pinnacle of candor, strength, and as far as I am concerned, everything that is right in this world. You all know that she changed my life with every word.

If you pray, the family could use the prayers. But we will be fine, even if the inevitable has starkly wounded us. While she had never been there, my grandmother very much embodied the soul and stalwartness of New Orleans and would be very upset if we spent our time mourning; the "second line" tradition of celebrating a life is exactly what she lived for. Instead of being sad, she would want us to dance, share stories, and eat, and love. She was one of nine children and outlived them all but one. She knew something of love and loss.

At the very least, toast those who have made deep impacts in your life, family or friend (hopefully both).

Thank you for all of your support. I knew you would want to know.

Love,
Dean

Evening.

Surprisingly, grandma's eyes were open. She was awake, although unable to move. Pneumonia has begun. She is fighting... but she knows the battle is almost over.

How do I know this?

She was mumbling. Some repetition, but mostly incomprehensible. Mom & I held her and spoke to her and listened. Dad was on the phone with Carol. Grandma muttered. After a long pause we only understood three words: "tired," "I," and "die." The sonic boom you heard at 6:15 was the sound of our hearts breaking. No amount if gain in love prepares you for the concious knowledge of loss.

She is still with us, barely. I'll leave back for Ferrum tomorrow morning. We'll be ready for the call and the inevitable trip to FL.

This has been hard.

We're driving back from seeing grandma for the last several hours. She's asleep, probably for good. But she's as comfortable as she can be. Sleep apnea (sp?) befalls her every five minutes or so and she doesn't breathe for a frightening 30 seconds.

We're going to go grab lunch and come back.

What a day of perspective, plans and silence. Even in the car the tinny sound of the oxygen plays in ny ear. I hope I forget her looking like this, and yet I hope I never forget the lessons.

I miss Cor & Addy.

(on a lighter note, I'm thankful for this Treo to give me a tether on expression.)

d

At the risk of posting a York-related post on LiveJournal, I'm in Yorktown right now.

Grandma is on oxygen, not eating and has been given hours at least, days at best. She fell over the weekend and hasn't recovered. I drove all day to be here for Mom. We'll go in the morning to see her.

Thanks for all your support in the past and now. She's been stronger than we ever dreamed- it's really an inspiration. Hopefully peace will take over soon.