The Big 'C'
by Bobbie A. Burgos
“Hello? Yes, this is Sue Burgos. Yes... Oh he did,” Tears filled my grandmother’s blue eyes as her voice began to tremble. “Well, I guess it was just my dad’s time. We took the tubes out this morning, yes. Okay, thank you”.
It was 11:45 p.m., Christmas night as I stood there watching my grandmother, not knowing quite what to think. My stomach was in my throat. My grandmother gave me this look: a look of feeling lost and helpless. At that moment, I realized that my great grandpa was gone.
My great grandparents lived in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in a very small town called Clear Creek, ten miles northeast of Lake Almanor. They moved so far to get away from the city; my family loves the country. It was so beautiful in Clear Creek. Across the road from my grandparent’s home is a vast meadow where animals love to graze. There was a Creek that ran through the meadow and through the town( giving the town its name). There was also a park on the other side of the creek where I’d spent many summer and winter days passing the time. It was so peaceful and quiet in Clear Creek. To me, Clear Creek and the area around there is a paradise where I love to escape to. My grandparents moved to Clear Creek when I was a baby but whenever we had a vacation we’d go up to see them and they’d come down for holidays.
My grandma T.( I call my great grandparents grandma & grandpa T., short for Tibbetts) has had a bad leg for a lot of her life. She has had numerous skin graphs and procedures done, but the sore would always reopen. Besides the cooking and cleaning, my grandpa took care of my grandma and the house. My grandpa did all of the driving because my grandma never learned. My grandpa told grandma T. when they got married that he’d always take care of her and that there was no need for her to learn. He stuck to his word until the very end.
Grandpa T. chain smoked cigars for as long as I could remember. There were always at least one or two ashtrays in each room(including the bathroom and kitchen) and there were always lighters lying around. I always liked the smell of grandpa T.’s cigars, especially after we’d come back home and everything we’d brought reeked of cigars. That cigar scent was like the mountain house’s trademark( the mountain house is what I call grandma & grandpa T.’s house). The cigar scent was so powerful that sometimes we’d have to wash our clothes more than once to get it out of the fabric; it liked to linger. My dad finally convinced him that smoking was bad for his health, so my grandpa quit the summer or ‘05. Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough.
~
I loved seeing grandma & grandpa T. during holidays and birthdays. They would drive down the five hour trip and usually stay with their son and daughter-in-law: Uncle Mike and Aunt Kathy.
Besides my birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas were always my favorite holidays. Grandma & grandpa T. made it all worthwhile because they spoiled me rotten. Seeing as I was the eldest of six great grand children, and grandpa T.’s favorite, I always receive fabulous gifts and the most affectionate hugs and kisses. Thanksgiving of 2005 my dad relayed the message to me that grandma & grandpa T. weren’t going to be able to make it down that year. He told me that my grandpa wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to handle the five hour drive. So grandma & grandpa T. stayed in the mountains that Thanksgiving and enjoyed their own turkey.
Grandma T. was coming down to her doctor in Sacramento once a month because of her leg. She had a appointment for the first week of December, so they decided that since they hadn’t been able to come for Thanksgiving that they’d stay a couple weeks to visit. When they came down I noticed that grandpa T. didn’t look as healthy as he had the previous time I’d seen him. Because of the high altitude in the mountains and my grandpa’s bad lungs, he had to use an oxygen tank. He usually refused to use it because he was too proud. Surprisingly, when he was staying at Uncle Mike and Aunt Kathy’s, he would just sit in the chair with his oxygen on and pretend like everything was fine.
One night after Uncle Mike and grandpa T. had come home from dinner at Brennan’s , my grandpa fell. He didn’t slip or trip, he didn’t even lose his balance. His legs just gave and next thing he knew, he was on the floor. That night Uncle Mike and Aunt Kathy took my grandpa to Richmond Kaiser to make sure everything was okay with him. The hospital kept him because something was wrong and they needed to do an MRI.
Only one person was allowed in his room at a time; it was my turn. I could hear my heart pounding, about ready to fall out onto the shiny hospital floor. He was lying on a bed in a small room. He was wearing a hospital gown and he had a tube in his nose, but he was excited to see me. We talked about how his day had been and I made sure to ask if they were treating him well. There was an awkward pause in our conversation and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I tried so hard to stay strong for my grandpa, but a person can only stay strong for so long.
“Don’t cry baby. You’re a good girl,” my grandpa kept telling me.
“I’m sorry grandpa, I just hate to see you like this”. I leaned over to hug him before I left, and as I did he began to weep.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he told me. Even though grandpa T. was a sensitive man, I had never seen him shed a tear until that day. As he said that I’d decided that he wasn’t going to be okay.
“I love you”.
“I love you too grandpa”.
~
In the past, grandpa T. had gone to the doctor often but always came back fine. At Kaiser, the doctors told my grandma that my grandpa not only developed lung cancer from his many years of chain smoking, but the cancer had spread throughout his entire body and spine, causing his fall. For a long time I was very angry with the doctors. A lot of the time I would think to myself: how could they not have detected cancer this severe? Over time it occurred to me that my grandpa had known all along, he was just keeping it from the family; he didn’t want to hurt us. It hurt me more to find out when he only had a few weeks to live. All of a sudden, my time with my grandpa was limited and rushed. It hurt me to know that soon my grandpa would be gone. It hurt me to know that I would soon have to say goodbye to grandpa T.
Eventually, my grandpa was moved from Richmond Kaiser to Oakland Kaiser. One night I went with my whole family to visit my grandpa in the hospital. At that time he was still able to talk to us and laugh with us. When we walked into his room there was a big smile on his face. I’ll never forget that night in the hospital. It was the last time I laughed with my grandpa and it was the last time I saw him smile. I remember the way my grandma and grandpa T. interacted that night. My grandma stood by my grandpa’s side the whole time and held his hand. They reminded me that true love is everlasting. She looked at my grandpa adoringly, like the way teenagers look into each other’s eyes when they’re in love. My grandma cherished every single moment with my grandpa because she knew it was near the end. Grandma & grandpa T. had been married for fifty-five years, but my grandma never thought she’d have to live without him.
A few nights after the whole family had gone to see my grandpa, he was moved to the intensive care unit. My Tia Angelica had just come out of my grandpa’s room. This hospital allowed two people into the room at a time, but I wanted to go alone.
I’d never seen my grandpa so vulnerable. There was only a thin white blanket covering his lower half. There was a large, clear breathing tube down his throat, enabling him from speaking. The way he was sprawled out looked as if he had been crucified to his hospital bed He looked at me with shame and hopelessness in his eyes. I was forced to fight back my tears as I told my grandpa I loved him for the last time. He managed to mumble a few words through his breathing tube before I looked away,
“I love you”.
That was the last time I would ever hear my great grandfather tell me that he loved me. I kissed his pale cheek and walked out of the room.
Tears were rolling down my red face before I reentered the waiting room. As I walked through the waiting room door, everyone saw my tears, but tried to ignore them. I sat in one of the cushy hospital chairs thinking about what had just happened when my Tia Angelica approached me and embraced me. We sat there holding each other and wept. She kept telling me that everything was going to be okay. I definitely heard those words a lot in the month of December, but for some reason I was the only person who was able to admit that nothing was going to be okay. Things were going to be far from ok.
~
Christmas Eve came and everyone went to my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Mike’s house to open presents, as usual. As my cousin and I were passing out the gifts, I remember having to put my grandpa’s gifts into a small pile in the corner. I never knew what happened to all of them; he never saw them.
As I lay in bed that night, I prayed. I’m not a very religious person, but every so often I pray. I prayed that my grandpa would get better. Up until that point, I had been the realistic one, but I was in denial. I prayed for him to get better because I knew how much he loved me and I was hoping someday he’d be able to love my kids just as much. I didn’t want my grandpa to miss out on being a great- great grandpa, but by the way life was running its course, it didn’t seem possible.
The last time I went to the hospital to visit my grandpa was Christmas night. I was with my mom, her parents, and my two brothers. When the elevator reached the fifth floor, time stood still. I didn’t want to go into his room, and again I began to cry. After the last time I saw my grandpa with all the tubes in him and in such misery, I couldn’t bear doing it again. I sat in the waiting room alone, watching the rain drops roll down the hospital window.
I thought back to the times up at the mountain house. My grandpa would walk around the house after just waking up: his comb-over a mess and wearing only his tightie whities. He’d come into the room we were sleeping in and smile. Those memories are so unforgettable.
After we left the hospital that night, we went back to Aunt Kathy and Uncle Mike’s house. When we arrived, almost everyone was gone.
“Where’d everyone go?” I asked my Tia Angelica as I walked through the front door.
“They’re all at the hospital”.
“Really? We just came from the hospital, we didn’t see them”.
“Oh, well they should be back soon.”.
“Why didn’t you go?”.
“Because the baby’s asleep and your uncle didn’t feel like going”.
I talked to my Tia Angelica who seemed upset about not going with everyone else to visit my grandpa.
“Hey Bobbielu,”
“Yes Tia?”.
“Would you and Trav like to spend the night with us tonight?”.
“Sure”.
Soon after, the rest of the family returned from the hospital. It was late and everyone was tired, so we left.
It was 11:45 p.m. when the phone rang. I was upstairs with my Tia Angelica and my uncle Justin, my grandma Sue( grandma & grandpa T.’s daughter) and grandpa Gus were downstairs, and my brother was asleep. We all listened intently as grandma Sue answered the phone.
“Hello? Yes, this is Sue Burgos. Yes... Oh he did,”
We rushed downstairs, still listening to my grandma.
“Well, I guess it was just my dad’s time. We took the breathing tubes out this morning. Okay, thank you”.
We all stood there watching my grandma Sue cry as she hung up the phone.
“He’s gone”.
I didn’t know what to do; I stood there like a deer in the headlights. My Tia Angelica was yelling at my uncle for not going to see my grandpa that night. I grabbed her and let her cry in my arms.
I went into the other room in disbelief, sat in a chair and cried. When I was little, I thought grandparents lived forever. Even though I had lost people I was close to before, and even though I was sixteen year old, I still thought my grandparents would live forever.
The viewing was on the twenty- seventh of December at Sunset Cemetery. I had gone without crying all day and was anxiously anticipating the event. As I walked up to the door of the room, I started to shake. I couldn’t handle it. I began to cry hysterically as my mom walked me down the aisle to my grandpa’s coffin. I barely recognized him. He looked like a plastic doll in its box. I stood there waiting for him to open his eyes, but he never did.