As Harry Potter would loved to have his parents back when he has the stone in his possession… He knows that he has to let go of the past to move on and remember his parents through the stories other people told him or the moving pictures when Harry was just an infant. So now into my possession. Oh dear, this is going to be the most painful post to date. I will attempt not to cry. =/ There is only one person that comes to mind… only because we had unfinished business. Otherwise there would be four people in total. I’ll start with the first three then conclude with the last person that came to mind first.
– My great-grandfather Everett R. Kimball – He died the 23rd of September, 2001, almost two weeks after the World Trade Center buildings fell. Fell victim to cancer. I didn’t get the chance to say my final good-bye the night before he passed on and that I loved him but we both know that we have said what we needed to before he left this world.
– My grandmother Dorothy L. Newberry – She died the 15th of October, 2009. It was her time. She has been battling an illness for a long while. As she was hospitalized due to the illness attacking her one final time, she was put on life support. Her husband decided that she doesn’t deserve to be on it so he solemnly pulled the plug. That good-bye was said already.
– My grandfather Duel G. Newberry – Not to be mistaken for my brother since they share the exact same name. He died 29th of July, 2011. Yes, the most recent one. I kept going back and forth between this man and my great-grandmother in who would go first. My great-grandmother is still alive at 85, soon to be 86. She is the wife of the great-grandfather I mentioned above. Anyway, I’m particularly close to them both…so it was an agonizing ordeal for every one of us when he finally passed on. Lest we knew it was his time to go be with his wife who he has missed for the last two and half years. Poor thing.
Now, the person that hit me the hardest when I discovered his death…
– My grandfather Edward N. Stockton – He died the 22nd of April, 2002. Approximately seven months after the first one passed on. However, I did not find out about his death until the 20th of December, 2002. I was foolishly led on believing that he was still alive for eight months. I kept asking mum when can I go see him? I miss him. Mum continued to repeat herself saying, “He’s sick with the flu. Maybe another time?” That puzzled me a bit because that was the same answer every single time I asked her for a visit to him.
That fateful day I discovered his death was when Dad pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to go to the Mall to shop for my younger brother. I said sure. So when we got to the mall, right before I hopped out of the car. He pulled out a small rectangular piece of paper and told me to open it. I was completely clueless as I opened it. Edward Neal Stockton. First words to fly out of my mouth, “No. It can’t be.” As I read on, I started to cry a little but stifled my sobs with pure rage. I immediately told my father to take me home. He knew it meant my mum’s place where I would unleash my fury towards her. He hugged me and said, ‘I’m so sorry.’ I concluded with a nod and said, “No. Don’t be. Thank you. I needed to know.”
As I got home, oh boy, mum was in for a treat. She was pleasantly surprised to see me, “You’re home early.” The very first thing I said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Oh yes.” As I started to drill into her, with a fair amount of curse words during the conversation from ol’ dear me, asking her all kinds of questions about why she would not dare tell me about his death, why was I denied the right to attend his funeral, why lie to me when I asked for a visit, and all other things. Her ONE response was, “I wanted to protect you. I knew how close you were to him and to know that both of them, Great-grandfather Kimball and Grandpa Ed, died within a year would kill you. I didn’t want you to plunge deeper into depression than where you’re at right now and we both know that where you’re at now is pretty severe after a year.”
There was nothing I could say to change the past but I said one final thing before I left, “Well, if you could have told me about his death. I probably would have recovered sooner but no, you chose to postpone the recovery. Now from this point on, when someone passes away, you tell me immediately. No matter who or what. As soon someone dies.”
And with that last sentence lingering in her mind, I left with my father to resume the weekend. Of course, it was filled with tears and a lot of anger issues. So if I ever wind up with the resurrection stone, the very first person would show up is my Grandpa Ed. Most definitely. I never got to say good-bye or even see him just before he got sick and died. It would be truly awesome to see him for one last time… it’s been almost ten years since his death in April but I don’t consider it the ‘anniversary’ of his death. Although I do remember him on two separate dates, 22nd of April and 20th of December. I always will miss you, Grandpa Ed. Oy vey. I made it this far without crying. Yay me. Until tomorrow!
Omg, 1024 words in total. Crazy. I guess the topics that gets to me the most, will be able to produce the most words out of me.