" And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409
And I rationed my breathes as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today
As each descending peak of the LCD took you a little farther away from me
Away from me

Amongst the vending machines and year-old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself

'Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news
And then the nurse comes round and everyone will lift their heads
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said that "Love is watching someone die"

So who's going to watch you die?.." - Death Cab For Cutie


It wasn't until this weekend that I fully understood the meaning and pure emotion behind those lyrics. But tonight, as I sit here, hiding behind my music, I reflect on the events of the past few days. I haven't really been ready or able to talk about this with more than a few very close people, but I feel that it is time I let everyone know what has been on.

As most of you know, I was raised by my grandparents. They have always been, and always will be my mom and dad. Mimi and Papa are the ones responsible for raising the person I am now. Papa was diagnosed with ALS (autotrophic lateral sclerosis aka- Lou Gehrig's disease) in August of 2002. For 5 years, he battled this terrible ailment, fighting everyday.

On Thursday August 28, 2007, at around 6:15 p.m., Papa said he had a hairball in his throat. He was too weak to try and cough it up. Mimi leaned him forward, tried to pat his back to get him to cough; no luck. She tried the cough assist machine; no luck. So finally, she resorted to calling 911. The firemen arrived, and the ambulance shortly after. They got him hooked up to an IV, and tried, desperately, to get the phlegm out of his throat. After numerous failed attempts, and when it became obvious that he was having trouble breathing, they whisked him off to the Emergency Room.

At about 7:00 p.m., I received a phone call at work. I heard the words i'd been dreading for such a long time. "Ash, Papa was sent to the hospital by ambulance about an hour ago. You need to go. I'm not sure how serious it is but you should go right now." I called my manager over, and he said that he would close for me, but he had to get the clear from his manager. His manager came up to me and asked me why I needed to leave. I explained my situation, and he responded with "You called in on Monday. If you leave, you could lose your job. You need to decide if this is really worth it." I walked out.

I arrived at the Emergency Room at about 7:20p.m. A few family members were there already. I sat with them and awaited the news on how Papa was doing. Finally, after a 30 minute wait, Mimi came out, and asked my mom and I to come back. We sat in the E.R. room with him for a few hours. Waiting. Papa got scared. He ended up having a panic attack. They gave him a sedative. The sedative reacted with his medication for his ALS and threw him into a coma state. Thats when they decided to admit him.

After a wait of a few more hours, Papa finally was given a room. It had a bed with a special mattress. The kind he needed to accommodate his ailment. It was on the general ward floor. Our hospital lacks a neurology floor, so they made special arrangements for him. We sat and watched as the doctors took all his vitals.

Later that evening, Marky and I talked Mimi into going home for a while. We decided that she needed a shower and fresh clothing. Marky and I sat with Papa. Papa went through spells where he'd be in a comatose state, then flailing around, then talking normally. It was so hard to see. At one point, he looked at me, and mid tears, I heard him say "Ash, please, relax". I had to leave the room.

I ended up spending the night with Mimi and Papa. I didn't want her there alone. She needed company. Neither of us slept.

On Friday morning, August 29, 2007, Papa stopped breathing. They put him on a respirator, and he seemed to be doing a bit better. Throughout the day, he drifted in and out of a coma. Talking with us briefly, being the same old Papa he'd always been, except, instead of his glowing face, he was frail, and pale.

By Friday night, he had gone down hill incredibly fast. I'm not sure how it happened. The whole day seems like a blur. But somewhere down the line, he started failing. At about 6p.m., my grandma and the doctors made the decision to pull his life support at 9p.m. I broke down.

When 9p.m. arrived, all of us immediate family gathered into Papa's room, and held hands. We prayed, we told Papa everything we felt we needed to say. He told us he loved us, and that he was checking out. I sat in the room with him, my mom, Marky, Kimmy, and Mimi for a few hours in silence, watching Papa slowly leave our lives. I held his hand the whole time.

At 9:15a.m. on August 31, 2007, Papa passed away.

It all seems surreal to me. I still expect to see Papa sitting in his chair in the T.V. room every morning when I wake up. I still wait for him to yell at me every time i sit down at my computer. Why should I have to lose my dad? And only weeks after I lose my grandfather? This whole situation just seems unfair. And with this, I have to say, Love is watching someone die.... Who's going to watch you die?...

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