PaPa Update #1

"I grew up on tales of chasing bandito's in Haiti and Nicaragua from my Father, so there was no other choice but the Marines for me. I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps at Minneapolis, Minnesota on May 1, 1941...

Boot camp was up before dark and to the Mess Hall for breakfast. Then out to the grinder for a couple of hours of close order drill and then a class on weapons that we would be using. 30 and 50 caliber machine guns, Browning Automatic Rifles, and 45 automatics. We needed to be proficient in taking these weapons apart and putting them back together blind folded. There were also courses in chemical warfare, general orders and the rank of various officers in the US Marines and their counterparts in the Navy.

I am afraid that Hollywood would have been disappointed as there was none of that sadistic crap you see in the Movies. Oh there were some dropped rifles that were slept with at night and some learned the difference between their rifle and their gun, but that was it. Only one incident that I can recall that was out of the ordinary. One night about 11 or 12 pm Corporal D-- fell us out in our underwear, winter overcoats, rifles and bare feet. He then marched us down to the beach and marched us back and forth for about an hour. The next morning the Gunny notices some of us were limping. The sea shells on the beach had cut up some of the feet pretty bad. The Gunny marched us up to the sick bay and had our feet treated. We never saw Corporal D-- again until couple of months later when we were at Camp Mathews Rifle Range. We all noted he was now a Private."

--from Papa's account of his time in the Marines during WWII

Thank-you all for your love and concern for my PaPa. It's been a tough week. A week ago today my mom took him to his doctor appointment with the oncologist. When he learned the news he said that he thought that something was going on with his body, but he was a bit shocked at how little time they said he has left. Since then he's been going through a bit of denial, wondering if the diagnosis is correct. Today he went to meet with his regular doctor who was hopefully going to be able to answer those questions and give him a clearer picture of the situation. I should hear soon how that appointment went.

A few days ago PaPa signed on with hospice care, so he'll be able to stay in his own home even until the end. But he's realized that Gramma cannot stay long with him. She is getting to the really difficult stage of Alzheimer's--incontinence and combativeness, which will just be too much for him very soon (I'm not sure how he's managed this long, actually). So, yesterday he and my mom found a place for her at Presbyterian Homes in Arden Hills. We will be moving her in the day after Christmas. I think this will be really hard.

PaPa is definitely getting more tired, my mom says. And that's how it will go. No pain, just greater and greater fatigue. We just don't know how long it will take.

The first several days were tough. I would get through the day and then cry at night (the kids still don't know what's happening, so I have to be careful). My fuse was nonexistent, so anything with the kids set me off. The past couple of days have seemed more normal as we prepare for Christmas and get past the initial shock, but every time I think about Christmas Eve I want to cry. It will be our last Christmas Eve with PaPa. How am I going to handle that? Even just thinking about it brings the tears again. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

If you would still keep us in your prayers I would so appreciate it. I got a note today from one of my former youth who reminded me that "our God is more than able...no one or no thing is beyond His grasp." For some reason, perhaps because I've prayed for so long, it is hard for me to believe that right now. I am afraid his hope is based not on Jesus Christ alone, but on his own righteousness as a "good Catholic" or a "good man". I'm afraid he won't "get it" in time. Lord, help my unbelief!

Also, my poor mom is overwhelmed with the responsibilities of doctor's appointments, cleaning out the house, finding a nursing home for Gramma, preparing to move her after Christmas and continue to visit and support her while PaPa is dying, helping PaPa grapple with his prognosis and impending death, as well as her own heath concerns. I am also concerned for my kids, especially Jay, if and when we tell them about PaPa. They love him dearly.

I will post more as time goes on, as well as more of PaPa's own stories from the War. I wish you all could know him...thanks for letting me share some of him with you.