Jamie's Dad passed away last night. We were on our way home from visiting him in North Bend Oregon, pert'near to Sacramento and we got a call that he was gasping for breath. We'd spent the last 7 days staying as close as we could. So we flipped a U and make a iron-butt marathon back through the rain and snow to North Bend. My flap-jack hurt so bad when I dismounted at 1130 PST, I had to chew 3 horse pills to calm down.
Death was slow and challenging. We all seemed to puzzle over the best thing to do.
The clan argued a bit about how to best care for Ray. Who would change him and put salve on his bed sores. We teased each other about getting old, eating too much and who was the best with a Red Rider.
We reminisced about Ray's skills with driving pretty much anything - making him a folk hero with our tales, while he reminded us he was human as he would moan quietly as they pain got too much.
He refused his meds, water and food. And at the same time allowed us to bring him a fried egg, ice cream and Pepsi - his favorites. He offered to run the backhoe, and allowed Jamie to rub his feet - and she did - for hours.
Cancer didn't have Ray.
Even after loosing 70 pounds, he had grace lying flat on his back. Grimacing through the platitudes of "How are you?". I wondered if he ever wanted to scream "How in the *&!%@ do you think I am? I have cancer all over my body, I'm hooked to a catheter, I wear a diaper, I can't feel my legs and everything tastes like metal!"
He never said or hinted at any unkind things.
We laughed about a lot of things. You see, when I told Dad I was going to take his roast beef sandwich, he told me "Make a big circle." In other words, pack a lunch, bring your friends and put your weapon on "burst" because brain cancer hasn't slowed me down at all. He never touched it. Neither did I. Ray's a steely-eyed missile man. A country-fried bad ass.
To say Ray was like a father to me sounds cliche and it misses the mark - he is a father to me. I know I will see him again.
I see him every day in the face of my son Eli, and I hear him in my wife's teasing. Ray's still here. In the 33" Stihl laying cold on the garage floor. In his 92 Chevy truck parked in the driveway. In the 6 pair of muddy size 12.5 Dunhams lying all over the house. In his $12 Timex, worn leather wallet and over-sharpened Spyder-Co pocket knife. In the grease-stained green Yates Construction Carhardt hanging on the back of the laundry room door - just not in the worn out cancer ridden, broken husk that he left behind.
I'm not happy about it. I'm pissed. Dying sucks. Who am I going to go to NASCAR Races with? Who's going to take me haulin' in the bushes of back country Oregon? Who'll drive the jeep at the Dunes?
Torch gets passed again. Buckle up Jason. Heads up Shawn. Watch your top knot Jarret.
The last thing my wife said to her father was, "Thanks for being my Dad."
Me too.
Alfred Ray Epperson will be laid to rest January 7, 4 pm
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints
3355 Virginia Avenue, North Bend Oregon 97459
6 comments:
:( I'm sorry for you guys!! Give Jamie a big hug for me!!
Yah, that really does suck. No matter the perspective we have on eternal life, and seeing each other again, it still SUCKS! I'll pray for you guys and Jaime's family for comfort. I'm glad you got to spend his last moments and days by his side.
What a grand and beautiful tribute you have paid to Ray. I have tears running down my face. Death is the unpleasant but unavoidable part of mortality that can be most trying. We really have no choice in the matter. But we have to remember that we cheered and shouted for joy when the plan was presented to us. I don't think we had any opposition then, and maybe we had not experienced broken hearts, the pain of losing someone we love, until many of our brothers and sisters were cast out for chosing loyalty to the the wrong side. Maybe that was our first taste of what death would be like for those left behind on the earth. It still doesn't make it any easier. I wish I could take away your aching heart, but only time can do that. Please know how much I love you and Jamie and your sweet kids. Thanks so much for letting us in to your circle of love. You are treasured friends. You are in our prayers.
I am so sorry Jamie and Jarret for your loss. Your family is in our prayers. We love you guys!!!
Jarret- you have always had a way with words. That was lovely- it is nice to know him from your description. I am so glad you were able to have last words and moments and hours. You are in our prayers. We love you. Take care.
Well said, particularly paragraph seven, sentence three. I wish I had known him. I love you guys. Wish I was there with you. Darin
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