Papa Miller

My Papa Miller passed away today.

He died naturally- his body was simply finished- and when he passed, most of his children were at his bedside. I think that there is something poetic about being at a parent's bedside when a final breath is taken. My dad was present for both his mother's and his father's final breath, just as they were both there for his first breath.

The last time that I visited with my Papa was on Thanksgiving, over 5 years ago. Even then, he wasn't quite the same Papa that I knew when I was a child. He seemed a bit absent, and perhaps this is when I said goodbye to him, knowing in my heart that I would not see him again in this life.

Papa never met my husband. He never met any of my children, though it makes me happy to know that Pascal Coy Miller will forever fill a branch on their family tree. And if they ever happen to ask about him, I will be pleased to tell them that Papa always had a freezer stocked with Jello Pudding Pops. He called Nana "Mama". He would covertly give me and my brothers cash by folding a bill into a small square and then passing it to us through hand-shakes. He would sing silly songs and make up rhymes, like once at a family function at the country club pool, he asked, "Annie? Would you be so bold, to fetch my shoes? My feet are cold!" He would drive Nana to the mall but then he would stay in the car and sleep while she shopped. He would take us out to eat at Humpty Dumpty, and we would ride in the front seat of his blue Buick, listening to folk music. He would do silly dances, and he would watch TV from his big reclining chair.

When I was a teenager, before I could drive, Papa once gave me a ride home from my job at Mark Sports. He took me out to dinner after my shift, and he cried as he told me how much he missed "Mama". I remember thinking I never want to be this sad. Tonight, he is in Heaven with Nana, and he is with the Creator, and I am confident that he is not sad, not at all.