My dad, he is an incredible man. He's an impressive stature, standing at six foot three, about three hundred pounds of muscle, minus the belly he has gained over the years. Never in my life did I not feel safe having Dad around. He was always there for me. As he has gotten older he has lost his patience. Which is really strange, I would think the patience would increase as he aged.
My son adores him, calls him Papa, which was such a special name, it is what my sister and I called our Grandpa (the only one we knew) He passes away when Braden was 2 months old. It was the most painful heart wrenching moment I have had in my life thus far. I remember running into the house when my sister called to tell me "Papa had a heart attack" and it's not good.
I ran into the door, passing Braden to my sister and the image I saw will forever be burned into my mind. My sweet Papa, laying on the floor with no color in his face, three EMS workers surrounded him, they were doing CPR feverishly and with precise perfect rhythm. My mom was sitting at his head holding his airway open. They were doing everything they could. It wasn't enough, I was balling. I screamed for them to keep going. Someone grabbed me, I still don't know who it was that embraced me but I collapsed. I don't remember anything but waking up on the couch. Praying what I had witnessed was just a dream. It was not, my grandpa passed away that evening and not a day goes by that I do not miss that man. He was the person in my family I am absolutely the closest to. I visit his grave when I can muster up the courage but I know he is not there. He is with Jesus, and I rejoice in the fact I WILL see him again and that he is watching over me and my family.
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