My papa was not in the best of health toward the end, but he was still home. For that we are all thankful.
Papa was my daddy's daddy. I saw him often.....he lived just 2 blocks away during the first 18 years of my life.
My papa was a war hero. He received the Purple Heart for an injury he received during WWII. He was a paratrooper and was shot in the back while jumping behind enemy lines.
That's a neat story.
A story we never needed to be reminded of.....the bullet in his back, the one that couldn't be removed, shifted one night and paralyzed him on one side of his body. He was in his 30s when that happened.
He, in my memory, was always crippled.
I'm certain he was always in pain, but he never complained about it. He continued with life.
I was very sad when I found out he had died. I was happy, though, that he seemed to die on his own terms. He was afraid that he would know when he was dying and that he would be aware of what was about to happen. He was afraid of being put into a nursing home. Neither of those happened. It was so quick that his doctor told my granny, "When I die, I hope it's as easy."
A friend of mine commented on my demeanor when she found out that I was getting ready to leave town to attend his funeral. She said that I was a lot calmer than a lot of people in the same situation. She then said, "I guess that is how it is with Christians...they don't have the same sadness....there is that hope...a celebration."
That is so true. I was sad, and AM sad that I won't see Papa again during my lifetime. But I will see him again. He was saved.
That man is now doing things that he couldn't do for over 50 years of his life.
He is no longer in pain.
He can walk.
How exciting it will be to see him again.