My Childhood: Grampa Lowe Dies

In the final months of 1972, my parents received word that my grandfather Lowe (my dad's father) was critically ill. Grandfather was in the hospital, and he was going to have an operation for lung cancer. At the time I wasn't sure what lung cancer was but I knew that it was serious.  back in those days, all they could do for lung cancer was cut it out. Medicine is still incredibly primitive and misguided (it treats symptoms instead of stressing healthy living) but at least these days we have transplants and microsurgery in many other techniques.  In those days they just hacked out the cancer.

I don't remember anything at all about my grandfather. I don't remember his face, I don't remember what he looked like, I don't remember what he smelled like, and I don't remember anything else about him. I'm not even sure that I met him. I do remember meeting my grandmother. But I don't remember my grandfather at all.

I recall my parents getting a phone call from grandmother. They were very upset and my father became very serious. I remember my dad was a very serious guy all the time, but on that day he became even more serious. I knew something was very wrong, but I really didn't understand, and nobody bothered to explain anything to me or my sister. I guess it's understandable, we were just children after all and couldn't be expected to be involved in all that; now that I've gone to the experience of having my wife pass away, I have a lot more empathy for what my parents went through, especially my father. the only thing I understood at that time though was that something very serious had happened, something very bad.

My dad took emergency leave from his job at Norton Air Force Base, pulled us out of school, packed us in the car, and drove to Texas to see him. I remember the trip to Texas.  It was a long, dull, boring trip and everyone was very serious and very upset.  Of course it was in the days before cell phones, he made frequent stops at payphones to call ahead and see what was going on. 

Grandfather Lowe was staying in a hospital in Texas, and we drove straight there from our house in San Bernardino in a couple of days. We met up with grandmother and rushed to the hospital. I watched my parents confer with the doctor then my sister and I were told to wait in the waiting room while the adults went in to see grandfather. I loved to read and I found the book a picture book, it actually was a Bible made for children with lots of pictures to help explain the story.  I think I read that book a couple of times was waiting for my parents to come out of hospital room.

I don't remember how long we stayed in Texas. I know it was more than a day and less than a week. What I do remember is that in spite of spending two days in the car driving across the desert, and tolerating all the emotions that were going on around me, and being scared out of my mind by the concept of a terminal illness, I never got to see my grandfather at that time.  I resented that for most of my life, until my dear wife passed away and I finally understood what my father and mother went through.

I know that if my father thought his father was going to pass away we would never have left Texas.  I know my dad and I know he was stayed by his father's bedside until the very end.  So I guess my grandfather had a good prognosis, and we drove back home to San Bernardino.  That was a long long trip home.  I believe it took two days and we stayed at a Motel six overnight along the way.

A week or two later my parents received a phone call from my grandmother.  Grandfather Lowe had taken a turn for the worse and he had passed away. my grandfather died from lung cancer caused by a lifetime of smoking.  My father smoked, and soon after that he quit, although for different reasons. my father was able to quit smoking and thus probably saved his own life.  My beloved wife Claudia tried many times to quit but couldn't or wouldn't, and she passed away largely because of her addiction to those cylinders of death.

I will never understand as long as I live why people smoke.  My grandfather smoked and passed away from terminal lung cancer.  My wife smoked and passed away from chronic lung disease.  My stepson smokes but he's still alive; however his health is polar is teach the rotted and he suffers from many of the side effects of smoking, not the least of which is a large portion of his income goes towards feeding his habit.  My father smoked and was able to quit, he is one of the lucky ones. For much of my life I've believed that what people do, as long as it doesn't affect anyone else, is okay.  Who am I to regulate other people's behavior? Will my to say what is right and wrong for other people?  Besides how could smoking affect someone else? yes, smoking is harmful to their bodies but doesn't everyone have a right to decide what to do with her body?  thinking back on the effect of smoking on my parents and my grandmother, I wonder, does a smoker really have a right to smoke?  Not only do they damage their own body, but they affect everyone around them especially their loved ones.

I wish my parents had let me see my grandfather when we visited him in the hospital. I think they didn’t want to frighten us (my sister and myself) with the sight of a man about to die. But, now, I don’t have any idea what he even looked like. I don’t know anything about him, and I wish I did.