My Pépère and I
A Story of Opportunities Lost and Lessons Learned
A Story of Opportunities Lost and Lessons Learned
I am five years old and I am in my room putting my ballet and tap shoes in my dance bag. I hear the door downstairs and a familiar, kind, raspy voice beckoning me to come downstairs. “Ay where’s my Nee-Cole.” I run down the stairs to greet my Pépère. His crystal blue eyes light up when he sees me enter the room. “Ah there’s my girl!” he says as he gives me a big hug, and the sweet smell of butterscotch candies envelops me, his favorite. “Are you ready to go to ballet?” As we walk up my pathway to his car parked on the street I am fascinated by the way in which his dress shoes shone and how pretty his front facing black beret was. I secretly wished I had some like these too. It is a rainy October day so the leather seats in his emerald green Lincoln town car are cool to the touch as he helps me slide into the seat, shutting the door behind me. I watch as he opens the trunk and takes out a handful of dog biscuits and gives them to my dog Buddy over the fence, he was always spoiling him.
I am six years old and school is over for the day. My Pépère meets me out in the school yard. He takes my backpack and we walk together to his car. Today I get to hang out with him until my parents get home from work. We get into the car, and he says “what do you say we go to the pantry and help finish making up the boxes?” I agree and soon we are at the church. As we enter, my Pépère is warmly greeted by everyone who walks by. He greets them in return with “have you met my Nee-Cole?” We walk up to these long folding tables that are lined with cardboard boxes. A woman greets us and soon I am packing the boxes with can goods and non-perishable food like a professional. As a got older I would continue to help my Pépère with the food pantry through packing the boxes and delivering them. It was a way of giving back and bonding with my Pépère at the same time.
I remember these memories well but soon I would discover that my Pépère would not have this luxury. For as the years went by, he slowly became more forgetful and easily confused. Eventually he would give up his driver’s license, something that hurt him deeply. Ever since he had retired, he drove for funeral homes part-time, partly because driving in general was something he loved. When he lost his license he lost his independence as well. This would not be the end to the blows in his life however. In 2006 he was diagnosed with dementia. In addition he had to undergo two full knee-replacements and had some hearing loss. Slowly his health was deteriorating. I felt like I was losing my Pépère one piece of him at a time.
However, Peppered was a stubborn Frenchmen and his personality and humor never left him. An example of this was when one day he came with my memere over my house for dinner. When we sat down to eat I was hit with the reality that his appetite was not what it was used to be, and he no longer could have that Bud with his dinner. At first he seemed saddened when my dad offered him one anyways. “I can’t he said, doctors say not to.” “Dad, you haven’t had one in months, I can tell that you want one, besides you deserve to have one if you want it,” replied my father. My Mémère then cut my Pépère off before he was able to reply, saying “no he shouldn’t and he doesn’t want one anyway.” You could see the annoyance in my Pépère’s face. He was not amused by the protective mother-like manner in which my memere was treating him. He would get her back however. He did this when we went into the living room after dinner. My Mémère was continuing to annoy my Pépère by telling my parents all about his new difficulties. “He almost fell out of bed the other night, and he is having trouble walking,” she was saying. My Pépère the hot shit that he was, looked at me, smiled and said with a serious tone, “I’m not having any trouble walking, I don’t know what she thinks she is talking about, but it’s not me. In fact, I think that I’m going to go to the store tomorrow and buy myself a pair of roller-skates.” We all laughed, all except my Mémère who took it very seriously with a stern look on her face.
Another example of my Pépère’s humor and acceptance of life and all its twists and turns came when he was hospitalized. He had been diagnosed with kidney cancer, another blow, it was 2008 and I was eighteen. I had gone to visit him in the hospital and he was given his supper. As he was not really eating much lately I tried to encourage him to eat. “Pépère you need to eat in order to get your strength back,” I said to him. Having ate his dinner and he then went for his dessert, a cup of mandarin oranges. He picked up his spoon and tried to scoop up the orange slices. He struggled however, and then looked up at me and to my surprise he smiled and laughed a little. Then he put down his spoon and picked up the oranges slices with his fingers, then looking at me again he said " God gave us fingers before he gave us spoons" laughed and then continued to eat with his fingers. I had felt awkward and a sense of sadness as I watched him struggle to use the spoon but after he made that comment I couldn't help but laugh and think of the whole situation differently. The fact that he still had his humor made me feel like his time wasn’t really running out yet.
This idea was further supported when he was sent home from the hospital. Although they could not operate and save him, the cancer had not taken him yet, he still had time. My Pépère stayed home for about three weeks before he had to be placed in a nursing home in order to receive the care that he needed. I visited him often, but the dementia and cancer had taken its toll. He mostly slept now, so even when I visited he was often tired or sleeping. The nursing home didn’t have any single rooms available so he had to share a room with two other gentlemen. He hated it and I hated seeing him in this state. He was shrunken compared to his prior self, and now looked more like a child as he lie in his bed then an adult. He looked so frail and would grind his teeth and mumble in his sleep, something he used to do when he was upset. I witnessed this on one visit when his roommates were in the room. One man was attached to an IV drip and kept making his alarm go off; the other roommate was a man who kept praying in Portuguese saying, “Oh Jesus ajuda-me, oh Jesus excepto mim, Mary que a mãe do deus seja comigo, ajuda-me Jesus a ajudar-me, oh meu deus, oh meu dues” (Oh Jesus help me, Oh Jesus save me, Mary mother of God be with me, help me Jesus, help me, oh my god, oh my god). My Pépère was fluent in both Portuguese and French so he understood what he was saying. Therefore, with the man praying loudly, the alarms constantly going off while he was trying to sleep, and him just wanting to be home in his own bed, he became very angry and upset. The last place my Pépère wanted to be when he was dying was in a nursing home and here he was by default. A few days after this visit my Pépère past away. It bothers me to this day that in his last days he was so angry and restless.
My Pépère has had a great impact on my life and the way I view life. From an early age I had a good relationship with him. We spent a lot of time together and were very close. Through him I learnt compassion, humor, kindness, humility, and the joy in charity/volunteering. He was always such a calm put together person who loved to help others, and in the end it was him who needed help. He was a sweetheart and yet a force to reckon with. As I got older my dependence on my Pépère lessened and along with it we became less close. As a result, I didn’t get to know as much about him as I wish I had. I learned how much I didn’t know about him actually through his obituary. Although I always knew that he had been in the navy, a Seaman First Class on the USS Essex and that he had served in World War II, it wasn’t until his death that I realized the impact he had in this time in American history. He was a recipient of the American Theater Medal, Atlantic Pacific Theater Medal (11 Stars), Philippine Liberation Medal (2 Stars), Good Conduct Medal, Victory Medal and Point System. He was a true American hero, and never mentioned it once. I regret not knowing this while he was alive and it makes me wonder how well I truly knew the man I called Pépère. There are a lot of questions in my mind now about him. Unfortunately, I may never know all the answers to these questions, because my time with him is up. I may never know what I missed out on exactly, what piece of knowledge I could have gained from him and his life but I do know that I did miss out. Therefore, my advice would be to take advantage of the time you have with the people you care about, and don’t take it for granted. You should ask questions, and spend your time with them because you never know when the opportunity to do so will be gone. Thus I believe the saying is true, you don’t really know what you have and can’t appreciate it until you have lost it.
I am six years old and school is over for the day. My Pépère meets me out in the school yard. He takes my backpack and we walk together to his car. Today I get to hang out with him until my parents get home from work. We get into the car, and he says “what do you say we go to the pantry and help finish making up the boxes?” I agree and soon we are at the church. As we enter, my Pépère is warmly greeted by everyone who walks by. He greets them in return with “have you met my Nee-Cole?” We walk up to these long folding tables that are lined with cardboard boxes. A woman greets us and soon I am packing the boxes with can goods and non-perishable food like a professional. As a got older I would continue to help my Pépère with the food pantry through packing the boxes and delivering them. It was a way of giving back and bonding with my Pépère at the same time.
I remember these memories well but soon I would discover that my Pépère would not have this luxury. For as the years went by, he slowly became more forgetful and easily confused. Eventually he would give up his driver’s license, something that hurt him deeply. Ever since he had retired, he drove for funeral homes part-time, partly because driving in general was something he loved. When he lost his license he lost his independence as well. This would not be the end to the blows in his life however. In 2006 he was diagnosed with dementia. In addition he had to undergo two full knee-replacements and had some hearing loss. Slowly his health was deteriorating. I felt like I was losing my Pépère one piece of him at a time.
However, Peppered was a stubborn Frenchmen and his personality and humor never left him. An example of this was when one day he came with my memere over my house for dinner. When we sat down to eat I was hit with the reality that his appetite was not what it was used to be, and he no longer could have that Bud with his dinner. At first he seemed saddened when my dad offered him one anyways. “I can’t he said, doctors say not to.” “Dad, you haven’t had one in months, I can tell that you want one, besides you deserve to have one if you want it,” replied my father. My Mémère then cut my Pépère off before he was able to reply, saying “no he shouldn’t and he doesn’t want one anyway.” You could see the annoyance in my Pépère’s face. He was not amused by the protective mother-like manner in which my memere was treating him. He would get her back however. He did this when we went into the living room after dinner. My Mémère was continuing to annoy my Pépère by telling my parents all about his new difficulties. “He almost fell out of bed the other night, and he is having trouble walking,” she was saying. My Pépère the hot shit that he was, looked at me, smiled and said with a serious tone, “I’m not having any trouble walking, I don’t know what she thinks she is talking about, but it’s not me. In fact, I think that I’m going to go to the store tomorrow and buy myself a pair of roller-skates.” We all laughed, all except my Mémère who took it very seriously with a stern look on her face.
Another example of my Pépère’s humor and acceptance of life and all its twists and turns came when he was hospitalized. He had been diagnosed with kidney cancer, another blow, it was 2008 and I was eighteen. I had gone to visit him in the hospital and he was given his supper. As he was not really eating much lately I tried to encourage him to eat. “Pépère you need to eat in order to get your strength back,” I said to him. Having ate his dinner and he then went for his dessert, a cup of mandarin oranges. He picked up his spoon and tried to scoop up the orange slices. He struggled however, and then looked up at me and to my surprise he smiled and laughed a little. Then he put down his spoon and picked up the oranges slices with his fingers, then looking at me again he said " God gave us fingers before he gave us spoons" laughed and then continued to eat with his fingers. I had felt awkward and a sense of sadness as I watched him struggle to use the spoon but after he made that comment I couldn't help but laugh and think of the whole situation differently. The fact that he still had his humor made me feel like his time wasn’t really running out yet.
This idea was further supported when he was sent home from the hospital. Although they could not operate and save him, the cancer had not taken him yet, he still had time. My Pépère stayed home for about three weeks before he had to be placed in a nursing home in order to receive the care that he needed. I visited him often, but the dementia and cancer had taken its toll. He mostly slept now, so even when I visited he was often tired or sleeping. The nursing home didn’t have any single rooms available so he had to share a room with two other gentlemen. He hated it and I hated seeing him in this state. He was shrunken compared to his prior self, and now looked more like a child as he lie in his bed then an adult. He looked so frail and would grind his teeth and mumble in his sleep, something he used to do when he was upset. I witnessed this on one visit when his roommates were in the room. One man was attached to an IV drip and kept making his alarm go off; the other roommate was a man who kept praying in Portuguese saying, “Oh Jesus ajuda-me, oh Jesus excepto mim, Mary que a mãe do deus seja comigo, ajuda-me Jesus a ajudar-me, oh meu deus, oh meu dues” (Oh Jesus help me, Oh Jesus save me, Mary mother of God be with me, help me Jesus, help me, oh my god, oh my god). My Pépère was fluent in both Portuguese and French so he understood what he was saying. Therefore, with the man praying loudly, the alarms constantly going off while he was trying to sleep, and him just wanting to be home in his own bed, he became very angry and upset. The last place my Pépère wanted to be when he was dying was in a nursing home and here he was by default. A few days after this visit my Pépère past away. It bothers me to this day that in his last days he was so angry and restless.
My Pépère has had a great impact on my life and the way I view life. From an early age I had a good relationship with him. We spent a lot of time together and were very close. Through him I learnt compassion, humor, kindness, humility, and the joy in charity/volunteering. He was always such a calm put together person who loved to help others, and in the end it was him who needed help. He was a sweetheart and yet a force to reckon with. As I got older my dependence on my Pépère lessened and along with it we became less close. As a result, I didn’t get to know as much about him as I wish I had. I learned how much I didn’t know about him actually through his obituary. Although I always knew that he had been in the navy, a Seaman First Class on the USS Essex and that he had served in World War II, it wasn’t until his death that I realized the impact he had in this time in American history. He was a recipient of the American Theater Medal, Atlantic Pacific Theater Medal (11 Stars), Philippine Liberation Medal (2 Stars), Good Conduct Medal, Victory Medal and Point System. He was a true American hero, and never mentioned it once. I regret not knowing this while he was alive and it makes me wonder how well I truly knew the man I called Pépère. There are a lot of questions in my mind now about him. Unfortunately, I may never know all the answers to these questions, because my time with him is up. I may never know what I missed out on exactly, what piece of knowledge I could have gained from him and his life but I do know that I did miss out. Therefore, my advice would be to take advantage of the time you have with the people you care about, and don’t take it for granted. You should ask questions, and spend your time with them because you never know when the opportunity to do so will be gone. Thus I believe the saying is true, you don’t really know what you have and can’t appreciate it until you have lost it.
