Did I really just say that?: Why You Always Answer the Phone When the Caller-ID Says it is Your Parents, Even Though it is Super Late at Night

The Lathams, 1973

Multiple friends have commented that when they are approaching that exciting ninth month of pregnancy, they stop calling people. They do this because the first thing the person on the end of the line always says is, “Did you have the baby?” No, “Hi, how are you doing?” nor a simple, “Hello.” The call is always a reminder that, no, the baby has not come; true, I do forget I have feet sometimes since I haven’t seen them in about 3 months; and yes, I did just pee five minutes ago and yes, I do have to go again now.” They just stop calling, anyone.

The Buckleys

Almost 7 years ago, I had to tell my mother to please stop calling me. My grandmother was dying. I had lost my first grandparent, my grandfather, when I fifteen. Over twenty years later I remember the day, my dad sitting us down to break the news. It isn’t something you forget. The heartache never seems to go away. My grandmother had lived a rough almost 15 years without her husband. She regularly expressed her desire to just, well, die. By this point her health had severely declined, and we knew she would not be around much longer. I had a trip planned in a few weeks, I would be visiting her. My mother had offered to send me up to see her; fearful she would not be around for my planned visit. So every time I read “ICE-Parents” on my caller-ID, my heart dropped and I thought the worst. Following my request, the calls stopped coming. I still slept with my phone nearby, with the ringer on; still brought my phone to Church, which I never do, though the ringer was off. The calls stopped until that late night, well early morning around 2 or 3am, when my dad called to tell me his mother had just passed away. I was devastated. She hadn’t held out for my visit. I would not get the chance to say goodbye. It was very difficult knowing she was gone. My dad was now an orphan, so to speak.

Luckily, I still had my mother’s parents.

I was always close to both sets of grandparents. I thought they were the coolest people. I loved visiting them. I loved when they visited us. I am grateful that I did not live close to my grandparents. I appreciate the relationships and closeness that we had even if we were a two to three hour plane ride away.

Mop headed me getting loves from Papa, 1981

Visiting my mother’s parents in California was always fun. I looked forward to the first moment I’d see Papa, because I knew the first he’d do is bop me on the nose. I don’t know when or why it started, but I looked forward to it. I remember the visit he didn’t do it. Maybe he thought I was too old? So I just bopped him in the nose, he got the hint, and the bops continued through the present. I actually have a tube in my office with a label identifying it as my “Bop Stick.” I made it about eight years ago. The label also reads something like, “If you are not smiling, I am going to bop you in the nose with this stick.” It was inspired by Papa.

Papa's 90th Birthday, 2011

I have always struggled with feeling that my life had any value. While everyone thought I was a confident kid/woman, self doubt prevails. But Papa always made me feel of great worth. I am certain that every one of his grandchildren has an assurance deep down that we are his favorite grandchild. His words and his love leave no doubt of it, not that we’d tell anyone else we are the favorite though.

The Lathams, 1990

Papa loves his wife and his three daughters. His eyes give it away. His smile when they walk in the door, or he speaks of them. I know he loves his sons too, but I am one who can tell of the special bond between a girl and her dad. And I will miss hearing him remind grandma, "Dolly (his term of endearment for her), I love you but you need to eat better." =)

Last Saturday the 11^th Papa turned 91. I always call for his birthday, but heard he was in the hospital, so figured I’d have to wait until he was released to wish him a happy birthday.

Wednesday night I learned Papa was diagnosed with a form of lung cancer. Thursday morning after talking to my aunt with whom my grandparents are “wintering” with, I booked a flight to travel to AZ next weekend to stay with my grandparents while my aunt attended her first grandchild’s first birthday party in CA. I wrote a birthday card to my grandfather, who still hadn’t come home from the hospital, letting him know that I did not appreciate his not being home on his birthday. What? Did he want a personal visit? Well fine then, I’d see him in a week. I forgot to put the card in the mail though. Friday night attending at a family member’s play, I told myself I had to mail it Saturday so it arrived before I did on Thursday.

Friday night, at 11:39pm, I was watching the movie 50/50 with a friend (ps I highly recommend the movie, though am thankful to have Clearplay so that I could it enjoy the dialogue, or lack of some dialogue, all the more.) I heard my cell phone ringing, which caught me off guard. I figured it was a wrong number call. I searched my purse to silence the ring. I found the phone and the caller-ID read, “ICE-Parents.” I almost didn’t answer because I was enjoying the movie, but had that voice in the back of the head reminding me, “You always answer the phone when the caller-ID says it is your parents, even though it is super late at night.” I answered to hear my mother’s sobs, and those two simple, yet devastating words, “Dad’s gone.” The only reply I could utter through my instant tears was, “I’ll call you back.”

Now understand, my beliefs teach that there are three kingdoms within the celestial kingdom. And while my goal, anyone’s goal, is to reach the highest kingdom, I don’t meet the qualifications. I am not married. So while that hope and that knowledge is ever present that I can one day see my family members again, my prevailing doubt, my lack of self value hits me as I think, I don’t get to see them again. And while I know my Father in Heaven would never punish someone who is worthy, who has tried, but still fell short – that through his Plan it will work out, and I have to have faith it will; it is still difficult to think that I have this amazing knowledge and understanding that should be comforting me, but instead is making it a little more difficult for me when I lose a family member. I cry, a lot. I miss that person, a lot. I doubt, a lot.

Probably ten years ago, I told my grandparents that they didn’t get to die until I was married because I wanted them to attend my wedding. After a few years I joked with them that I just wasn’t getting married, because I didn’t want them to die. A year ago or so, my heart broke when Papa told me that I need to get married soon because he wasn’t going to be around much longer. Well, grandma, you are not off the hook. And maybe now Papa is going to give me a helping hand, be my guardian angel of sorts. He going to start kicking someone in the pants – though I think the person he’s going to kick is me, because I need to conquer my fears and my doubts once and for all. I’m not going to have the favorite men in my life around me forever – not unless I find the one who does want to be with me forever, and helps me qualify to see my loved ones again.

I miss you Papa. My heart is breaking knowing you are gone. But I am not going to lose the hope that I will see you again. And I know that should that time come, you will be at my wedding. And though you won’t be able to through your arms around me and give me a hug, you'll still be able to embrace me with your love, and I’ll be able to feel you there with me still.

My parent's wedding

The last time I saw Papa was Thanksgiving Day. We all celebrated at Uncle Richard and Aunt Kim's house. Grandma and Papa were surrounded by family, lots and lots of family. Papa was tired and went to bed before we'd left. I got ready to leave soon after. When I mentioned to Grandma I was going, she said I could go back and say goodnight. She went in to tell Papa, and she came out and said to wait a minute. Papa put his clothes back on and came out fully dressed to say goodbye. His words of encouragement were there. His words of love were there. He practically fell into my arms to give me a hug goodbye, well, he lost his balance a little and in his weakness fell towards me. I left that night knowing that for those last few moments with him, I was Papa's favorite grandchild.