Post by skittles on Mar 1, 2011 3:48:46 GMT -5
Okay, so I have to bite the bit and go to the Arlington National Cemetary. Because I didn't get to say my official goodbyes to my grandfather, whom died January 9, 2008 before my fourteenth birthday, my mother figures that at almost seventeen, I'm old enough to visit his urn. Grandpa and I were really close and when I found out he died, I had just gotten off of the bus and my nana was standing in the driveway with our dogs. She told me he had gone of a heart attack and didn't suffer. It calmed me but didn't take care of the pain that came with losing the man who had acted as my father when my..err..donor failed to fulfill his duty as a parent. My grandfather was the type who was a fighter. Here's the past my nana told me about him, considering they've been divorced almost forty-some odd years....poor fellow never got remarried.
When my mom was sixteen and living with him, he was diagnosed with cancer and given five years to live. With the cancer, came diabetes. At the age of twenty-something, he had a horrific car crash and was given last rites on the scene. He was actually given last rites several times. When I was living in upstate New York, they were originally going to cut off his pinky toe because of the diabetes but ended up cutting off his leg just below his knee. A couple years before his death, it was suggested he have a heart transplant. He refused because he was sick and tired of being cut open, not that I could blame him and survival rates aren't exactly amazing. His heart finally gave out at the age of sixty-four in the comfort of his home, and his grandmother outlived him.
So there's my grandpa's medical history from what my nana told me. His name was Roger Milton Archambo and despite his crude personality, he was the type of guy you could trust to look after you, even though he had his own problems. He took care of two, elderly women whom I liked a lot. One died and a year later, the other died. He began volunteering at the nursing home and although he hated cats with a passion, he took care of the cat that belonged to the two, deceased elderly ladies. My mom was really torn up and refused to share any of his memorial service things. Mom's half-sister, Lisa, wanted nothing to do with grandpa but got everything that mom was entitled to thus mom got nothing.
When my mom was sixteen and living with him, he was diagnosed with cancer and given five years to live. With the cancer, came diabetes. At the age of twenty-something, he had a horrific car crash and was given last rites on the scene. He was actually given last rites several times. When I was living in upstate New York, they were originally going to cut off his pinky toe because of the diabetes but ended up cutting off his leg just below his knee. A couple years before his death, it was suggested he have a heart transplant. He refused because he was sick and tired of being cut open, not that I could blame him and survival rates aren't exactly amazing. His heart finally gave out at the age of sixty-four in the comfort of his home, and his grandmother outlived him.
So there's my grandpa's medical history from what my nana told me. His name was Roger Milton Archambo and despite his crude personality, he was the type of guy you could trust to look after you, even though he had his own problems. He took care of two, elderly women whom I liked a lot. One died and a year later, the other died. He began volunteering at the nursing home and although he hated cats with a passion, he took care of the cat that belonged to the two, deceased elderly ladies. My mom was really torn up and refused to share any of his memorial service things. Mom's half-sister, Lisa, wanted nothing to do with grandpa but got everything that mom was entitled to thus mom got nothing.