A Very Sad Day

Where do I start?

At 11:30 this morning, Grandma Barb lost her battle with esophageal cancer. Just yesterday my father had her moved from Jewish Hospital to a hospice center in Blue Ash. It has only been a little over 6 weeks since she was diagnosed. 6 weeks ago, besides looking a little paler than usual, she seemed like herself. Only a couple of weeks ago we were laughing at the kitchen table.

At about 9:30-10:00 this morning Micole and I were still at St. Elizabeth Hospital in Kentucky, when my sister called me to tell me that she didn't think Mom would make it through tonight. We cleaned up and packed as quickly as we could, but there was still some required paperwork and tests before we could leave with the baby.

I had just pulled onto the I-275 on ramp from Turkeyfoot when my sister called me to tell me that she had passed away. We wanted her to see her grandbaby before she passed away, but it was not meant to be. Micole wanted me to pull over, but I did everything I could to hold myself together and drive.

We got to the hospice center (which incidentally in a very ironic twist of fate is on Cooper Road) a little after noon. There was a lot of crying. I don't think I've ever seen my dad cry before and definitely not like that.

I feel it is truly a tragedy for Cooper. He will never know her voice. He will never know her touch. He will never know her love. The rest of us have been lucky.

In another twist, my mom took what she thought was a dark secret to her grave. She kept this secret because she somehow thought my sister and I might think less of her or love her less. I find it more sad that she felt she could not tell us. But I forgive her. I don't love her any less and I think no less of her. She still should have told us. She left me with more questions than answers. I won't tell you the secret she held from us, because there are too many voyeurs on the internet and no matter how gentle they are, I don't want to broadcast it to the whole world. If you ask me on the street I'll be happy to tell you.

We don't know until Monday when the funeral will be. She will have two services. One in Loveland and one in West Union where she will be buried next to her brother Doug (which is who Cooper's middle name comes from and I'm named after his middle name Martin). I never met Doug. He died the summer before I was born. So life repeats itself. One day we're fighting to bring Cooper kicking and screaming into the world and at the same time the world was taking Grandma Barb away from us.