This is another one I originally wrote for the Helium Network in the fall of 2012. My Uncle Ken died of cancer four days after I fractured my ankle in late September-early October. This response to the Helium prompt "died happy" was my way of dealing with the grief and all the other things going on around me at the time.
Poppy Died Happy
By Emma Redmer
I turned to Dad. “He died happy?”
Dad nodded. His eyes were puffy and red, even though he didn’t want to admit it. Sarah said he’d been crying when he called her on the phone this morning. “Yeah, Ellie. He did. Judy didn’t want him to, but he asked them to take him off life support. He knew it was time.”
I took his arm. “You didn’t want him go go.”
He shrugged. “Ellie, Pop was the only relative I had left. He raised me and your Uncle Rick. I’m going to miss him.”
I leaned on his shoulder, wishing I could take all the hurt and grief away. “Dad, Poppy had cancer. You know it’s been spreading for over a year. He hasn’t been out of that chair in the den for six months, except to go to the bathroom. He’s better off this way.” I smiled at him. “He’s with Miss Ruth now. My old landlady. She died in the spring. Remember, they were really good friends. He’s the one who suggested I move into the empty room at her house when I had nowhere else to go.”
“Pop was like that,” Dad said softly. “Always thinking of others. He did like you, Ellie. He thought you had real spirit.” He leaned back, the tears coming again. “Damn, I’m going to miss him.”
I hugged him harder. “I’m going to miss him too, Dad. Pop was a great guy. Remember when we used to visit him on our way to the Jersey Shore when we were little? He was always the first person at the door to help with our bags and give us hugs.”
Dad nodded. “Yeah. We had great times when we were kids.” He looked out the big picture window in the living room, at the rickety dock by the river. “We used to go fishing off that dock. Mom would give us lunch, and we’d spend all day sitting together, making jokes about teachers and bosses, waiting for the fish to bite. It was nice to just be together. I know a lot of kids whose dads were too busy at the office to spend time with them. Not Pop. Pop was always there.”
“That’s because Poppy had his own business.”
“And a darn good one. Your grandfather was the best carpenter in the entire state. He could build anything. We never had to worry about having soapbox racers, or help with a project for school. Pop could do it all. Those shelves in the living room, the ones I use for DVD and the grandkids’ pictures? He made those.”
I sighed. “I wish I’d known him better. I’m glad he helped me, but I didn’t really see him that often.”
“He just wanted to help, Ellie. He was like that. He helped half the town.” Dad chuckled. “Did you know he used to hold parties for the local Democrats right here...and he was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican his whole life? He didn’t care. He helped anyone he could.”
“I’m going to miss him, Dad, but I know he’s with Miss Ruth, making shelves and tending their garden.”
Dad teared up again, but all he could do was nod and hold my hand. “Yeah, I know, Ellie. I know.”
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