In My Little Town

My husband and I had planned a short trip to where his father lives, who was under the care of hospice. We had to go sooner than we were planning. There was a flurry of phone calls from hospice, so we decided to get on a plane to go visit. (a gripe for another day—but, you’d think that airlines would be more compassionate for the amount they charge for situations such as these)

Thursday morning–the day we were leaving–before we got out of bed, my husband received the call that his father had passed.

His dad had cancer of the everything, but my suspicion is he probably had lung cancer which metastasized. He smoked right to the end. Which was his choice, and I don’t judge anybody for this habit, but to the person(s) who thought that it was a wonderful idea to grow some plants, roll the leaves up, or put them in a pipe to smoke–I know you are long gone–but, a pox upon you.

Now, before anybody gets all up in arms, I’m a former smoker, and I’m paying the price today. I still wish ALL the nasty carcinogens and “progress” our world has evolved into, simply weren’t part of our environment.

But, here we are, staying at my father-in-law’s house which has been filled with decades of smoke. The kind where the white woodwork is yellow, and everything is saturated by the smell of cigarettes. Breathing has been a bit difficult.

My brother-in-law flew in as well. It is wonderful to see him, even under sad circumstances. While they have been busy taking care of my father-in-law’s affaris, I have been trying to clean some of the surface areas. ugh! I won’t go into what I’m coughing up, because I’m sure it’s too much information for y’all, and I already over-share.

Anyway, this morning, we woke up to beautiful sunshine, but no electricity. It is so quiet in this little town. A town that is struggling, evident by the empty store fronts….however, they do have a WalMart. Stinkin’ corporation invades everywhere (another story for another day)

This is the little town I have always wished to live in, although I would prefer the mountains, and not tornado alley. Even with the dead looking trees and grass, it is beautiful.

Oh, and did I mention quiet? 🙂

This is how I imagine our world was like. Open spaces, fresh air–minus the cow pastures– and no factories. No smog. No mass of people being rude as they go about ignoring everybody.

Although I didn’t know my father-in-law very well–which is another very long story–I have been the one to tell his neighbors that their long-time friend and neighbor has passed. It’s very hard to tell a stranger bad news and watch the tears well up in their eyes. Oh my. He was well loved in his community.

But, I will have to say, that when someone shows up at the door in full camo gear, I hear a slight tune of that song from the movie, Deliverance. Creepy.

I woke up to a song, and I’m trying to write this in a hurry because I’m using some sort of internet connection my husband has through his work phone. I may have a bunch of errors throughout this piece, but another story for another day. 🙂 Anyway–wow, I get distracted easily, don’t I? I didn’t Google the song, but some of the words are “in my little town”. This is the song that was running through my mind when I woke up this morning.

I can see why my husband’s father and step mother chose this as their home.


About April

I'll come back to this when I find out who I really am. I've been through some extremely rough patches but they have made me a better person. I blog if my brain is functioning first thing in the morning.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to In My Little Town

  1. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.

    • April says:

      Thank you for your kind words. It has been expected, but it doesn’t make it any easier. However, we are celebrating his life, and not lingering over how frail he was.

      • I love the idea of celebrating life.

        • April says:

          It helps me move through the grief. The first thing my husband did was beat himself up for not doing enough. We had a long talk–and even though I can’t believe I actually helped someone–he understood that he is human. He did tons for his dad. He couldn’t keep him alive because that was not his decision, or anything he had control over. So, we have been slowly talking about how funny and well loved he was among his community.

          • What a gift the community gave to you. And to go there and see why he loved it, what a gift to feel comfort in that as well. I’m glad you helped your husband. And I bet you would be surprised to hear you have helped others.

  2. suzjones says:

    Take care hun and give your husband a big hug. I’m sorry for your loss at this time.

  3. mewhoami says:

    I’m so sorry to hear about his passing. Even when it’s somewhat expected, it’s still very hard. It’s wonderful though that you two were able to fly there. And that you flew… Also, it’s good to hear from you.

    • April says:

      Thanks, I actually did very well. Usually, last minute anythings set me into a anxiety filled tizzy. I just did what I had to, and didn’t fall apart. That is some progress I can be proud of.

Comments are closed.