Unexpected Farewell

Edward Bennet Abrams 

10/18/46-1/8/17

There's just a small height discrepancy between my Aunt Faith and Simon.

The kids were home in Illinois, and they paid tribute to Grandpa by going to one of his favorite Chicago restaurants - Portillo's.

Noah and Grandpa during one of Grandpa's many visits in the past few years.

No one can tolerate a week of sorrow so we tried to make some fun memories too.  We went to an Escape Room, the Pima Air & Space Museum, a mystery dinner theater and a few movies.


It feels like it was yesterday, because it almost was.  My dad hadn't been feeling well for a couple of weeks, and an unrelated lab test on 12/16 had shown elevated calcium levels in his blood.  He went in to the hospital for a saline infusion which should have done the trick on 12/19.  By the time 12/27 rolled around he wasn't feeling better so he went back to the hospital and ended up admitted for a few days.  It was during his hospital stay, that he was diagnosed with probable lung cancer.  The hospital he was at, was a small regional hospital, so on 12/30 they discharged him with instructions to follow up in Tucson.  We were scheduled to leave for Hawaii the next day.  My dad and I talked about the reality of his situation, and he assured me that nothing would happen while we were gone and insisted we go, and so we went.

Of course, life rarely goes as planned.  I don't know if my dad didn't understand how bad things really were, or if he intentionally downplayed things as to not interfere with our trip.  Either way, his health took a drastic decline in the early days of 2017, and he was med-flighted to Tucson on 1/6.  Plans were shifted, flights were booked - it was clear that things were not going well.  My brother and sister-in-law arrived late on 1/7, after attending to a death in my sister-in-law's family.  I left our Hawaiian paradise a day early to close the distance between me and my dad as quickly as possible.  I had many miles to cover - many hours to travel, and I was just too far away.  He was very sick, and he was ready to go - invasive lifesaving measures were likely not going to be enough, and so from far away I allowed my brother to stop all interventions.  He passed in 15 minutes.  My dad died as I was boarding the final leg of my flight.

I did finally make it to Tucson and was able to say my good-byes.  I was able to grieve with my brother and sister-in-law as we tried to wrap our minds around how, in the course of 3 weeks, our father went from an unrelated blood draw with high calcium to passing away.  We made final arraignments, we remembered together and we tried to find joy in togetherness.  Simon was able to join us after heroically taking the red-eye home from Hawaii with the kids by himself.  My aunt and cousin from Chicago came down to mourn and remember with us.

As with many children - through the years my dad and I have had many kinds of relationships.  My favorite version of our relationship, however, is the last version.  Since Jonah's diagnoses, my dad has visited often.  He was present in our lives and in our stories.  My kids got to know their grandpa as they spent time together at home, in the hospital or on tourist adventures.  Noah has developed a shared interest in football, and would commandeer my phone during Colts, Bears, Broncos or Patriots games - knowing that his grandfather was watching - so that they could text about the game.  With a little prompting, he would ready stories or play board games with Julia and Anna.  He would look for ways to relate to Jonah through hearing aids and bald heads.  My dad would offer any medical insight he could muster and was always reminding me to take care of myself - that it was ok to take time to feel.   He was also one of my most reliable weather reports and would often text me updates on our weather as well as his.

And, in the pain and shock of my dad's sudden departure - standing before me tomorrow is Jonah's next surveillance MRI.  It is that time again where we wait with baited breath, on our knees, heart in hand - praying for stable results.  How, oh how, do these events pile so tightly on top of each other?  Do I need the distraction of an infected tooth root canal (June) and the passing of my father to keep me from freaking out about these regularly scheduled MRIs?  It is my hearts prayer to have a lifetime of surveillance MRIs, so I need to find solid coping mechanisms.

A few people have told me that they think I am so strong to manage all that our story holds.  I'm not though.  I'm only ever focusing on the next thing.  It doesn't feel fair that there's so much pain and sadness and scared and hard all going on at the same time (there's also some stuff with my mom & grandmother, but that's for another day) - but Jesus says, "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart - I have overcome the world" (John 16:33 paraphrase).  This is hard stuff, but all I can do, is what I've done all along - trust God to light the next step and then take it.

Please join me in praying for the outcome of Jonah's MRI tomorrow.  Please pray for my whole family as well - these are hard times - faith shaping times.  May God's presence be big and real for all of us as we take our very next step.