Let’s Just Call This One “Manny”.

   This is a true story of an awe-inspiring miracle, and the sequence of miracles leading up to it. This life story is my own personal testimony, an inference of a higher power: a first hand account of miracles that lead to miracles that intertwine with other people’s lives, whom have, all, been guided with their own personal path of miracles that lead them to another’s…and so on. I believe that there are no coincidences; that everything that happens in our lives, good or bad, is meant to happen for a purpose that we may never understand. 

This is the story of a bully, no different from any other bully, at first. A bully is a bully is a bully, period, but this story has a very different ending. Because this story ends so different, I will protect his name,. Instead of calling him “The Bully”, though, Let’s just call this one “Manny”.  My aunt Kathy and cousin Katie, who live only a few units from me in the same complex, were having problems with one of their neighbors intimidating them for the previous five months, and he was gradually becoming more and more aggressive, until, one night, he took it too far. While I will not get into the details of the argument, I will detail the behavior, which is completely unacceptable, for ANY reason. He was being a bully, plain and simple. That’s where this story begins:

It was another “Saturday night, Golden Girls get together” (As I would always refer to it.) Nearly every Saturday, after five o’clock mass, without fail, all of the ladies on my wife’s side eat dinner, together, and meet back at one of their homes for a few hands of cards (Three to Thirteen, they always play.) around the dining room table, filling the house with conversations and memories, gossip, and an endless amount of laughter, and they had been doing the same, nearly every Saturday for over sixty years. (not including a few very short times in their lives where one or the other of them moved away. While there were times when a person may not have been able to be at that table, it was not long before they would all do whatever was necessary, so that they could all be together, again.) Each time they came together, you could see the unbreakable bond, and for someone outside of that, looking in, witnessing the love that they held for each other was comforting and heartfelt. I would, generally, listen from the couch or another room, thinking, to myself, how awesome it was to be surrounded by that kind of love. It was reassuring to watch such a love and unity shine in the spirit and hearts of, what truly was, family. I was hopeful and grateful , even more so, that they were, now, a part of my family, and they would pass this unconditional love onto the hearts and souls of my children.

They absolutely  adored my children, and there is nothing more promising, to a caring and devoted father, than to watch his children’s face light up when they are surrounded by people who shower them with the kind of love and affection that they always do. I absolutely love that my children get to spend time and get to know where they come from, it may help them to discover who they are, by learning where they came from. Also, I am so grateful and happy that so many people love and want to be a part of their life.

Four generations were there that night: My wife’s grandmother, Dorothy Kane or “GiGi” (whom was 94 at the time.), My mother in law, Sheila, and her twin sisters, Kathy and Sally, my wife’s cousin, Katie, (daughter of Kathy, and, also a twin.) as well, of course, our two children: Tegan (just three years old at the time.) and Baby James (not quite a year old, yet.).

I had dropped the kids off so they could all spend time together and went to the gun range to get in a little “practice time.” The battery on my phone had died, therefore I had not received any of the calls or texts that they had been sending me. (which is a good thing) When I arrived to pick the kids up, however, I came to find all of the ladies out front, visibly shaken and completely out of sorts. My little girl wrapped her arms around me, crying as they took turns telling me what exactly happened while I was away.

Apparently, “Manny” stopped at my Aunt Kathy’s doorstep and beat on her door. Upon answering the door, they were confronted by “Manny” immediately getting in my mother in-laws  face screaming forcefully, scaring the ladies, making the dog bark as he coward in the corner, and completely frightening my little girl so that she was crying until I got there. Also, he did this in front of his own family, who were crying in fear too. (My daughter referred to him as the monster for the next few days and was scared, even at home, that he was coming to get her.) I showed no emotion as I comforted my family and, very relaxed, got the kids in Grandma’s car. I waved them goodbye and told them I would be right home, I just had to take out Aunt Kathy’s trash. Once they turned the corner, the kinder softer me was nowhere around.
He had been making threats to them for a few months, leaving notes on their car and even leaving notes on their door, comfortable that they had no idea what vehicle he owned and certain that they had no idea where he and his family lived. What he did not know was that immediately after he initiated his first threatening contact, I learned what condo he lived in, what car they drove, where he worked, where he went to church, what school his children attended, and the names and locations of most of his relatives. (thanks to a few good friends in the complex and social media) I kept all of that information in my back pocket and, respecting my Aunt Kathy’s wishes to not get involved, I did nothing. He had no idea just how much I knew about his life, and I, until now, never had a reason to bring it to that level. Now, though, it had become my focus to rip that comfort from under him and call him out for the coward he was. (at least, I thought he was.) I was determined to make his children see the same monster my children saw, and to let them know that growing up to be a bully is horrible, because it makes you a weak and mean person, and there are people out there that they will, someday answer to.

I went to his doorstep and beat on the door like a hammer. He answered the door, face to face at last. “Manny?” I asked.
“Why, who are you?” He asked.
I laughed aloud and looked him deep in his eyes. “My Aunt and my cousin live downstairs. It was my mother in law that you just got in her face…but most of all, It was my little girl that you scared and made cry…and there ain’t no coming back from that one.” I answered as I came closer and closer toward his entry way.
He was speechless and surprised as he slammed the door shut in my face. I beat on his door again, and said these exact words: “I’m here mother–, and I’m not going anywhere. No matter  where you go or what you do, I’m gonna be there.”            I ran back down the stair well and headed to my car, only after being stopped by cousin wanting to know if all the ruckus was me.
I chuckled and confirmed with a nod, not really saying anything further. I, then,  drove home to be with my family.

About an hour or so later I told my wife I needed to go out for some fresh air and she made me promise I would leave it alone.
I lied.
I returned to his door and knocked again. “I’m still here mother–. There is nowhere you can go that I wont be. No matter what, I’ll always right here.” Then I walked back downstairs and went back home. Just wanted to remind him that I was there, and there was nothing he could possibly do to get rid of me now. (I was careful, though, not to make any actual threats that could get me in any trouble.)

Since I knew his work schedule I told my wife I had to move my car the next morning, and waited by the front gate for him to leave. I timed it within only a matter of minutes, as I watched him recognize me waving at him drive right past me, trying not to look in my direction. I smiled and waved yelling out for him to have a nice day at the office. (only I was very specific about his place of employment, so that he understood that I knew where he worked.) I wanted to make certain that he knew that I was everywhere, and the only option, now, was to leave my family alone.

Since I have a talent for writing, I went home and wrote a letter describing everything he had done. (only, I am a creative writer, so I added a few minor details that might have been a bit exaggerated, painting him an absolute monster. I had intended on delivering them door to door, posting at clubhouse memo board, posting at his church, and even outside of his office. (it detailed his real name, his address,etc.) My last flicker of humanity towards another father flashed and I gave him the final chance to leave well enough alone. One more slip, however, no matter how small and I would completely destroy EVERYTHING in his life. (The ONLY reason I gave him so many chances was because it would have ruined  his family’s life forever. I don’t believe in paying for the sins of a father. At least, I hope not for my children’s sake.)

A couple of days later I was taking the trash to the dump when I saw “Manny” and his family leave their building and walk all the way to the other side of the complex, where he had been parking, evidently, to avoid any further confrontation. The moment I saw him i shut the rear door to my jeep and leaned back with my Oakley sunglasses pulled down, my arms crossed, as if I Had been waiting for him. He noticed me from the corner of his eye but wouldn’t even look in my direction. I stood smiling, but silent, as he was with  his children and I knew, for certain, he was not going to cause any problem for my aunt or my cousin again. He drove away and I continued unloading the trash feeling happy, for him, that it need not go any further.

I was finally hopeful that he might find whatever each man seeks to find that changes the way he looks at the world. Mostly, I was lifted from being the lesson of people’s intolerance for cruelty that his children may, one day, have to learn. I let go, and asked for my family to do the same. We all agreed to let go and not harvest any more anger, as I was able to assure them that he would never interrupt our  lives again. While he may not have learned his lesson, and one day may again be a problem, he isn’t our problem to deal with anymore. The anger we hold inside manifests itself into a dark resentment, fueling our need for retribution, so much that we become a part of what is wrong with the world today. We become unrecognizable. Eventually, everyone answers for what they have done. Walk away with a smile on your face thinking about that old wheel coming back around, and take comfort in knowing that you didn’t do anything to make it come back around for you.

Fast forward almost six weeks of ever seeing or hearing from “Manny”…
I walk out of Aunt Kathy’s place, after just eating Katie’s famous mushroom melody, (burp) and who is backed up unloading his SUV with bottled water but “Manny”. I kept walking toward him looking him dead in the eye, but this time with mind hand out to shake his. I broke the silence by saying “You’re still my neighbor brother.” He was quiet for a moment and he embraced me like a war veteran would the first time seeing his unit commander since the day they left that filthy desert.
Tears poured from his face onto my shoulder as he gained his composure and was able to speak.
“I owe you, your family, everybody a big apology. I mean everybody.” I took him aside to settle him down and replied
“No, I’m good, but I agree you owe my Aunt and my mother in law one. They would like that. And I would greatly appreciate that, too”
Something weighed heavy in his heart and I let him know I was there to listen to him, but I was not prepared for the power in what came next…
“I want to thank you.” he said while giving me another hug.
I just listened.
“You saved my life” he continued.
I was overcome with happiness with the thought that I could have impacted someones life that much.
“No” He explained “You don’t understand. I wasn’t me these last few months.”
He continued to explain how he had gotten into a financial bind and, at the same time,  two of his siblings couldn’t pay their bills and his sister started getting into trouble, making bad decisions that cost her job and then she lost her house so she just left her kids at their parents house, and their dad is sick. Then he explained how his job had been unusually slow and his wife was unable to work, plus they just had another baby. He told me how he had been going to church twice a week but he had so much in his head that he didn’t hear a word they said. He was in a downward spiral and the pressures of being the one guy that has to take care of everybody, with no help turned him into somebody totally different.
He admitted to me, man to man, that he was a monster and just took it out on anyone and everyone that wasn’t his family. And he broke into tears when he talked about the way he treated my family. I gave him my forgiveness and my blessings to let him know it would all be okay and he sat down on his bumper and hit me with a ton of bricks.

“That night.” He painstakingly recalled. “That you came to my door. After I screamed at your family my wife took the kids and went to her moms. And left me because of what I had become. And that was the only thing that I had left in this world. I didn’t want to live anymore. So I went to my bedroom and grabbed the great big knife I keep by my bed and sat on the couch just working up the nerve to kill myself. I cut myself a few times on my arm just to start and then i put the blade to my throat and sliced it twice, just enough to bleed. I sat forward and prepared myself to make the final cut. I was all alone and there was no one to stop me so I reached out to the only one that I knew could hear me and I asked him forgiveness. I closed my eyes and I prayed aloud to him. I said God, there is nothing left for me here anymore. I have nothing and I am nothing. I have nobody left to turn to. I’m asking you, lord give me one reason why. Tell me how am I going to do this by myself. I asked him one last time for a sign, a reason not to,as i pushed the knife harder and harder against my throat. And out of nowhere, a pounding at my door. I dropped the knife on the floor and answered it and there you were standing in front of me. I wasn’t alone.”

I got goosebumps up my arms and neck as I remembered the rest of that night:
When he slammed the door on me, I shouted from the other side: “I’m here mother–, and I’m not going anywhere. No matter  where you go or what you do, I’m gonna be there.”  I was careful not to make any direct threats so that I couldn’t get in any trouble. Just so happens that at that very moment in time, those words were the exact words he needed to hear. What I was saying and what he heard were the same, yet, completely different.

And then later that night,  “I’m still here mother–. There is nowhere you can go that I wont be. No matter what, I’ll always right here.” I wanted to remind him so that he could be afraid, but it only reminded him there was nothing to fear.

The next morning I was right there as he headed to work.

Then, two days later when his wife came back to him, I was right there by my jeep, one last reminder that God was still there for him.

He believed that I was his reminder that God is always there, and I believe it too. He got his family and his life back together and started participating even more in his church, and he deserves it.
He apologized to my family, with tears in his eyes and extended his love to them. He even brings Aunt Kathy cases of bottled water, from time to time, just because.

Not all angels have wings. Not all angels have passed. Not all angels are anything remotely close to being an angel. Pay attention, there are miracles surrounding each of us every step of the way, we just might not know for what purpose we must walk the path we walk.

Brian D. Stout

Dear Papa: A letter to heaven

Tegan wanted to take a quick minute just to write you a letter today. 

A line or two, just to let you know we thought of you, as we do so many days. 

“But daddy, we have no stamps. How are we gonna send it to him” she asked me with concern

I assured her, not to worry,, they charge no postage where Papa’s at.

So she Pressed the letter to her lips and sealed it with the sweetest kiss. Then she helped to tie it to the string of her very favorite balloon. 

“This way, when he gets it, he’ll know that it’s from me” she said. “Besides, I want papa to have it as a Gift”

And she slowly let it go, and watched it dance up to the sky. We both watched, intently, as it faded into the distance of that deep blue endless sky.

Silently she stood there, deep in thought. “Daddy” she said, as if a question had her stumped. “Yes baby” I softly answered. No question, however, followed as I had expected. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and I lifted her tight in my arms. She kissed my cheek and gave a smile. “I love you” she, finally, added. I smiled back and returned the kiss on her cheek, and answered “I love you too” 

And sometimes that’s the only logic or understanding you need. I gloated all the way back into the house. Not only in the sweetness that she had shown in that whole experience, but that my little girl was a believer. She held back whatever question may have gone through her mind, and let it go to faith. What a Gift, she has, already. (At two years old)

The Change (for baby James)

…to conquer this miraculous walk of life; one step of human kindness after another. This world needs change, and Baby James will be their example… I can’t wait for you to begin your journey!

Brian D. Stout
(Daddy)

The search begins within

I dream of a world that respects all mankind…
Although that which I seek, I may never find.
Without hatred or intolerance; we simply let each other be.
While we might not understand, we just agree to disagree.
Walking side by side, hand in hand, that’s not what I’d expect…
Just walking through a peaceful world with a mutual respect.
A world devoid of judgement, but not devoid of sin.
If you, too, seek a world as such, you must start your search within.

Brian D. Stout

The Difference Between A Daughter And A Son

She has made me soft and weak,
How she can melt me with a smile.
While he has made me proud and valiant;
The strength to conquer every mile.

Brian D. Stout
(Daddy)

Who she is to me (for Colleen)

She tames wild stallions
she even rescues strays
And you ain’t never met a woman 
more set in her ways
She exorcises demons
She helps the blind to see
She’ll pull you from your wreckage
And that’s who she is to me

Brian D. Stout

See Also: A Mothers Day dedication

A Mothers Day Dedication ( for Colleen)

If, once I’m gone, I should not be allowed in heaven. Promise you’ll remember me as the man I am today.
To my wife, without you, I would be nothing. She pulled me from my wreckage, and saved me from myself. You, truly, saved my life, therefore, I have always stood committed to protecting you through yours. We bring out the best in each other, and we bring out the worst in each other. We are EVERYTHING that the other is not…we are exactly what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. “Ride or Die” sometimes our absolute loyalty is the ONLY thing that kept us together, but it was that loyalty that formed the foundation for the house we’ve built along the way…stone by stone, into the awesome house it is today. Every moment that defines the man I have become begins with you. I love you, more than you could ever know! Every bit of goodness in my soul, every bit of hope and faith in my heart, every bit of kindness and unconditional love in my spirit, belongs to you. You created a good and decent man in me, and then gifted me with purpose. There are no words to describe what light I see you in…but you are everything but the wings!

Brian D.Stout

See Also: Heaven at a glimpse

A Gift From Two Fathers, Part II (For Baby James)

Continued From: A Gift From Two Fathers

See Also: The Roots of Your Tree
Part II: Jimmy
A few months after my dad passed away, we were sitting on the back porch getting ready for bed. It was me, your mom, grandma Sheila and Jimmy G. Jimmy got up from the patio table to go to bed and had a little trouble with his balance. I offered to help but he insisted he was fine. ( he was stubborn to the bone and always would refuse any ones pity or help. He never, once, showed pain or admit when he was hurt. He was the most determined man I ever met. He was, not only strong willed, but had a tolerance for pain like none I’d ever seen before.

  • (I had seen him fall from the top step at the Grande Lakes, a good 4 feet tom the bottom, head first to the concrete, splitting it wide open, only to be angry because I would not just take him up to his room to go to bed, I literally had to hold him down until the paramedics arrived. All I kept thinking that night was how amazed I was he was still alive, but I felt bad for your mother because I thought, for sure, this was an injury that would change his life completely. Only to be woken up a few hours later with Jimmy G coming back to the hotel with a few stitches, carrying on like nothing happened) 
  • (The last couple years of his life he would hold his head and just shake off whatever was hurting, not mentioning a thing. If you asked him he would insist he was just fine, although if you paid attention you could tell it wasn’t. He never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him or to worry,)
  • (Some days he would be in so much pain and tired that he couldn’t get up from the kitchen table or even out of bed. He never complained…he would always say the exact same 2 words: “no pep” and brush it off. But no matter how bad, “no pep” was ALWAYS the only thing wrong with him.) 
  • (Every time he went to the doctor, he would tell the doctor he felt fine and he would never tell the doctor anything. How he was able to keep so much to himself I have no idea, but it truly was incredible.)

   Back to the story: I allowed him a few feet of comfort space, staying just far enough so that if he fell I would catch him and pick him up. (As I had done many times before) I turned to open the door for us and, with my back turned away, he lost his balance and fell against the patio table, hitting his side on the concrete floor. I grabbed him and picked him up and put him in the kitchen chair and noticed he seemed to be hurting extremely bad, and his body seemed to be reacting to the fall. He was unable to focus, he was trembling, and he was not responding to things. I made Grandma and your mom call the ambulance and had them call your aunt Trish and Jim. (Whom only lived four doors down at the time) Trish and Jim came immediately and the next few minutes seemed like forever until the ambulance got there. 

   While we were waiting, he came to and was insisting that he was fine, he just needed to go to bed. I, too, am a very stubborn man when it comes to health and safety…so I wasn’t hearing it. When the medics arrived, Jimmy G insisted he was tired and needed to go to bed, but after my very adamant explanation they decided to stay there. He was refusing medical attention, but they were concerned, so they made him a deal: if he could get up and walk to bed they would leave him alone, even if he did so with help. They helped him up and the pain was so great that he appeared to have stroke like symptoms, the exact same way he had reacted earlier, only this time they witnessed it themselves and could no longer accept his refusal. 

   They transported him to the hospital, and your Grandma rode with him. Your mom, aunt Trish and Uncle Jim rode together and I stayed at home with Tegan. That would be the last time that he got to do his very favorite thing in the world: drink a beer on his back porch by the immaculate pool he had maintained while watching his tv. (That pool was pristine, and he gloated with pride in how perfect he had kept that pool for 30 years. It was another one of “his things” and he deserved it…three times a week he would clean the filter and every day he would clean and drop more bleach tablets in it. The trick, he said, was the specific tablets he used that you could only buy at Sams club, nowhere else, because of one specific thing that was in those particular tablets, that he wouldn’t tell anybody. But we actually had pool guys from the neighbors that would wonder over and ask how he got it so clean)

   Anyway, it was of no surprise when the doctors admitted him into the sand lake hospital overnight. They wanted to keep a close watch on him. He was put on fluids and vitamins. They found lots of bruising and he hurt his hip, not to mention they found he had broken ribs, and not just from that fall but 2 of the broken ribs had started healing, which means he had carried on as if nothing was wrong with broken ribs for at least a good week or two. 

   The doctors made him stay there for, at least the next 2 days, so that they could hydrate his body and get him strong again. (I won’t go too far into detail, but He had to go through something called a detox, and because of his age it was going to hurt his body more than normal from the shock of cleaning out whatever harmful thing it is that your body becomes used to having. It sucked watching him express hurting for the first time, especially the amount he was going through, and not being able to do anything about it.) 

   The entire time he was there he just wanted to come home. He would beg for us to take home and even tried to kick himself out of his hospital bed a few times. Even the doctors couldn’t Believe how strong he was. 

   After a few days in the hospital, his condition didn’t get much better, so the doctors decided to transfer him to Dr. Phillips rehabilitation center, so that he would have around the clock medical assistance and someone to help him exercise his muscles to, hopefully, get him stronger. 

   Your mom and I drove Tegan to go and see him. (Tegan was the world to him and she always made him happy) on the way to the clinic, Tegan threw up in the backseat out of nowhere. ( the last time, and only other time she had done that was on our way to see Grandpa Stout for our last time.) Your mother and I knew that to be a sign and we both choked down talking about what we knew was to come. 

   We all took turns hanging out with him while he was there. He started to forget certain things so brought in pictures of his past to help him remember. ( no matter what he forgot, he would ALWAYS remember being married to your grandma.)The happiest day of Grandpa's life

   We, soon, found out that the center had been taking horrible care of him, He had a new bruise from when he fell out of bed onto the floor and was lying there for who knows how long. I don’t recall who, but either Trish or your mom found him on the floor and had to go get the nurse. He was a serious high risk for being a fall hazard, come to find out the alarm that should have been on his bed to alert when he is not in it didn’t work, and the staff could not be so certain if any of them worked. That place was horrible. We insisted, though, that he just give it a few more days.

    One night, after we had all started getting ready for bed, the phone rang. It was him, begging to come home and saying the people there mistreat him. Your mother and grandma felt terrible and I told them to go to bed and I would go up and sit with him for a while. When I first got there I went in through the front door (mind you this is nearly midnight) and came to a nurse standing against the desk. I thought I’d ask her about Jimmy, but she didn’t even make eye contact as I passed her and another nurse at the first nurse station. I thought it odd that they wouldn’t even question me, when I know it was obvious I had no idea where I was going. 

   I passed by 2 more nurses stations with a nurse posted at each one, without even a hello. (One nurse was on her phone checking Facebook or something, and didn’t even see me at all. By then I had figured out where I was going and continued down the hall to right in front of his room. I looked back at the nurse behind the desk and made certain she saw me, and, just to see what she’d do, I turned around and went into the wrong room. I sat down next to the old lady that was asleep in her bed and just sat there for 5 long minutes, amazed that no one challenged me.

    I left her room and went into your grandpas room, where he was tossing and turning and couldn’t sleep. He was so glad to see me and was almost in tears begging me to take him home. ( your grandpa had something called Alzheimer’s, which got so bad that it’s called dementia. He didn’t just forget people, but how to do things. He was used to his tv at home and was frustrated because he couldn’t even figure out how to turn the tv on or anything else…the room was unfamiliar to him and it scared him. What’s more, there was nobody there to take the time to help him. 

   I helped him get comfortable and watched some tv with him. We talked and hung out for just over 2 and a half hours when he finally calmed down enough to go to sleep. Before I left I promised him that I would get him out of that place and bring him home, but it would take a few days. (And began working on how to get him home…researching financial assistance, household modifications, even finding a way for him to qualify for medical assistance from home.) I am a strait shooter and will never give you my word to something just to say it; I was going to do whatever it took to get him home. 

   I stopped by the nurses station and introduced myself as if I had just got there. I wanted to make sure someone was watching him so I held a very inquisitive, but civil conversation with the nurse. I asked how often they made rounds and one nurse responded with every hour, while the other nurse quickly sai 2 hours. Just to be clear, I said back to them ” so every hour or two?” To which they both concurred. (I did not mention that I had already been there for over 2 and 1/2 hours and knew they were lying) 

I, then, asked her directly about the alarm that was not on the bed of a high risk fall victim, and she told me that sometimes the patience turn it off themselves. (Which was obviously a lie, considering your grandpa was so, what you call, not so tech savvy, that he couldn’t operate a remote that worked 2 devices at a time, or couldn’t send a text message, let alone find a hidden switch that activated an alarm and secretly turn it off.) 

   I started asking questions on how to begin the process for bringing him home. She was very helpful with that, she emailed the person in charge of that and scheduled a meeting with your grandma and mom and aunt Trish, and even sent an email to the lady in charge of setting up all the financial needs and questions to start his discharge. 

   Before leaving, I told the nurse that I had parked right outside of the side entrance. ( which was electronically locked with a code lock and a sign saying please use front door after hours and check in at the front nurse station…ha, funny) I asked her for the code to the keypad so that I didn’t have to walk all of the way next time and she gave me the four digit code. I left and went to the car, only to come right back and try the code she gave me. It worked, letting me right back in through the back way. I have never been so frustrated and upset as I was when I left that place. 

   I got to John Young Parkway and turned around, went back, used the key code and checked on Jimmy one last time. It felt somewhat better knowing the wheels had been set in motion to get him out of that place tho.

    For the next couple days, your grandma and Mom and aunt Trish were stuck to make a difficult decision…the kind of decision that makes any man question themselves…the kind that changes EVERYTHING for everyone…forever. Whether or not to bring him home or to keep him where there is, at least, medical staff always nearby. 

   After a couple of heartbreaking days, the lady that handles all of the discharges recommended he be discharged and sent home, to be with us, and provided the care of a hospice nurse.

  •  (Hospice is a group of doctors and nurses that provide care for everyone directly involved, at absolutely no cost, to help with the transition of a patients last days on this Earth. While hospice is an absolute Godsend, anytime a person is released into hospice care is done so solely for the purpose of taking away the pain and making sure their last moments in this life are as comfortable as possible.) 

   Hospice brought a hospital bed and an oxygen tank and everything we would need to wash, feed, and take care of your grandpa just like he were in a hospital. They gave him medicine to ease the pain and taught us how to do and use everything and what to watch for. Your grandpa was so happy to be home. It was familiar to him. He was with the people that loved him. It was really nice to see him back where he belonged, and especially to know that I was able to make good on that promise. 

   During his first night home I pulled the recliner by the foot of his bed and Kyle pulled the other one and we both just sat there watching him…making sure we were there if he woke up through the night or if he needed anything. 

   We were lucky enough to be there with him when he woke up, at night and wanted to talk. It would be the last conversation he would ever really have with anyone. The amnesia had really done a number on him, and he wasn’t sure who Kyle was exactly, but he was talking to him like an old friend. He recognized me, but I think he was confused who I was.

  •  (Towards his last few months, he had grown to see me as someone that he could depend on to make whatever was wrong better. He would actually ask for my help when he needed something that he was had never needed anyone to do for him. He would tell people to go get me whenever he had to be taken care of. He and I rarely got along most of the time, but it is an amazing honor to have him recognize the person I am, and know that he knew that he could count on me when it truly mattered) 

   We, three, talked like old friends for a good hour or so, before he got tired and just wanted to go to sleep. Since I had known him, he drove a Toyota and his old Thunderbird sat in the garage collecting dust. That night, when we mentioned his Toyota, he responded with a quick “I’d never own a foreign car…nothing but American.” He was going back in his mind. He thought he still lived in New Jersey. (30 years ago, yes) He had a visit with his twin sister.(whom had proceeded him in death by quite some time) He kept reaching for a beer, that wasn’t there, just out of old habit. 

   Once he went to bed, we were intent on making sure he didn’t climb and fall out of his bed. (He still had enough strength to kick his body over where there were no rails) Kyle and I assembled a a gate, (from a doggy gate) pushed two chairs butt up against it and put a concrete block in front of the chairs so there was NO way he was getting out of bed. Kyle went to bed and I lay in the rocker next to him. 

   That night I was woke by a loud noise. He had reached his arm over the rail and started, slowly, pulling the gate towards him. I sat there and watched him as he, a little bit at a time, actually pulled the gate up to the rail, leaving nothing to stop him by his feet. He then started kicking himself out of the bed. 

   I am amazed at this, still to this day. To do what he did required a good amount of strength and enough Witt to strategically place your fingers at just the right area and pull in just the right direction. Your grandpa had become physically weak and mentally child like and confused. For him to have the fortitude to carefully and diligently figure out how to get out is beyond me. This was your grandpa’s unmatchable will and sheer determination. 

   Also, true to your grandpa’s tenacity, the fight he gave to hold on to every possible moment he could. When the hospice nurse returned the next day, she was surprised that he had not passed on yet. All of the signs had indicated, the previous day, that he may have been within hours of his passing. 

   She gave him a check up and told us she would come back two days later to check in. (Certain that he would not be here anymore) …and two days later, when she returned, he was still holding on and fighting. He had grown somewhat agitated, however, and I expressed my concerns, sensing some discomfort. She observed and agreed. She increased his morphine prescription to an amount that would take away any pain, but he may never respond to us again. I waited for your grandma and mom to get back home. Having just gone through losing a father a few months before, I knew how hard things were about to get, so I text Stephanie, (your moms best friend) and asked her to come over, so that she could be there for your mom, and, also, because she was part of the family. . (They all grew up together) 

   At first your grandma wasn’t sure if putting him to sleep was the right thing to do, but she knew the pain he was in and saw the nurses recommendation. (Your grandma and I tried to clean him up and give him a bath the night before, and in doing so I think we hurt him more, and we were pretty sure it sent him into a mini stroke.) It was time to take him of all this suffering he had endured and guide him to peace. He lasted through the night and the next morning I went to work. (Once again, Stephen was well aware of the situation and was quick to help me however he could. I let him know that this would be the day my wife would need me to come home early,)

    In the middle of my lunch, a feeling overcame me and I felt the need to text your mom. “How’s dad?” Was my question. He had just passed away that very moment. Trish had gone to the store and your grandma had to go in to work, but there, once it was just he and your mom, he breathed in a hard gasp of breath and went home to be with his mom and dad, and his twin sister.

    Jimmy G was the most dedicated husband I’ve ever met to your grandma. He was indefatigable when it came to providing his family with everything they ever wanted. He was benevolent in that he would give the shirt off his back to help out those he could. He was strong, firm and most of all determined. The world is a better place for having him in it.


Synopsis: how you came to be.

   Not long after both of our fathers had passed, I came home from a long day of work and your mother asked me to join her on the back patio. She nervously presented me with a home pregnancy test showing we were going to have another baby. A year formed the corner of my eye from the absolute happiness I felt. I raised my eyes toward heaven and I thanked our fathers out loud in prayer. You are their gift. They both were so incredibly proud of the loving father (and mother) we have become for Tegan…so thankful for being there for them through their passing…so happy to know, undoubtedly, what unconditional love I (we) would give to you, that, I know, they hand picked the sweetest spirit in heaven and nurtured it into the miracle that is you. 

   There was never any question of that. From the first time I learned of you, I knew that you were a boy. But to confirm, that night, your mother had a dream: she dreamed her dad was holding you in his arms before he handed you to her. (Tegan was a month early, but you stayed in your mommies belly until the very day you were supposed to. I think it’s because your grandfathers were holding you and loving you as much as they could, and weren’t ready to give you up until they absolutely had to. You are a Gift From two fathers, created in heaven, with a piece of both of their souls, to remind me the greatness you are! It was without question that you were meant to carry on the name of two greatest men to have ever walked this Earth. Wear your name proudly, as it conveys intimation of what stoic heroes they truly were. And now you, also carry the legacy of a Stout, a name defining a strong and powerful protector, that puts loyalty above all.

See Also: The Change

Brian D. Stout
(Daddy)

Roots of Your Tree (for Baby James)

My father; your mother’s father…
you won’t remember them on Earth. Although I know they held you in their arms,
until your day of birth.

And when we spread their ashes on the soil,
only God could know:
it was that which fed the roots with blood
so that their tree of life could grow!

Brian D. Stout

Papa Jimmy G

Grandpa Stout

“A Gift From Two Fathers” (For Baby James)

(The Roots of Your Tree) 

You are named after two of the greatest men to have ever been, but the story behind why we chose that name goes so much deeper. This is a story of ho how you came to be, and , more importantly, a big part of who you are.

  1.  Introduction:

Jimmy G (mommy’s dad)

 James is the inherited namesake of your mother’s father, James Goodwin. Those who knew him well called him “Jimmy G”, for short.

Geoffrey (my dad)

Geoffrey is the name passed on to you from my father, Geoffrey Stout.  Your name is James Geoffrey, which can be shortened to “Jimmy G”. Should you decide to go by “Jimmy G”, do so proudly, as it is a bounteous namesake, synonymous with an altruistic nature. Finally, Stout is a surname meaning brave and powerfully built, known for unqualified loyalty. Basically we are protectors of our family, and damn good ones!

To begin your story, it is necessary I go back a few years before you were born, and tell you a little about Tegan. When your mom and I got married, Kyle and Shyanne were both grown, so she and I thought that we would grow old, together, just the two of us. Although we both love Kyle and Shyanne unconditionally we figured that having children part of our lives was well behind us, and we were prepared to move onto whatever was next. The Lord works, however, in mysterious ways, and God saw the love we held for each other and blessed us with the miracle of having a child together. We stood in awe. What it meant for me was salvation; God put his faith in me, by offering a second chance at being a good father. I, often, thought about what all I could have done differently as a father, and God gave me that opportunity. We immediately thought that Tegan was going to be a boy; someone to carry our family name proudly, and, pass it on one day. When  we learned Tegan was going to be girl, we-both understood that God had designed something entirely different for our lives. (There is a reason for anything and everything that happens on your journey through life, good or bad. It makes it a whole lot easier if you accept that he is in control, and have faith that there is a purpose.) We  were both so happy that we were going to bring a life in this world that was completely us, that it never even mattered if she was a boy or a girl. We asked, only, that God keep our child safe in his protection, and that our child be healthy. Your mother and I, thankfully, thought this to be our last chance to know an indescribable love. A love that the creation of life could bring. So we made a promise to God that we would shower her with absolute love, and only love.  It was Tegan that filled my heart with love, making me the father I was able to become. (The story of Tegan) She shined her light on the souls of everyone she came in contact with, but for Grampa Stout and Grampa Jimmy, she was their absolute world and there was nothing they would not do for that little girl. From the day she was born, they both glowed with happiness and love. Seeing them light up like that was special. (Although they were like that with ALL of their grandchildren) Even more, when they would see the love that your mother and I gave to her, they would shine with pride. It meant so much to them to know what caring parents they had raised, and even more, to us, knowing that they got to see us become what we were meant to be.

Grampa Stout holding Tegan for the first time

Papa Stout had been sick, and the doctor suggested he take it easy. Against the doctor’s advice, he drove straight down from Acworth, Georgia, by himself, to our house to see Tegan. He made no stops along the way and got no rest. Grandma Sheila had everyone there for a spaghetti dinner and he had never even met any of them. What’s more than that is I was at work and he still just didn’t care.

 

Papa Jimmy holding Tegan for the first time

Papa Jimmy was sick and had trouble remembering a whole lot of things. He would always brag to everyone about his granddaughter, including his doctor. When the doctor asked what her name was, without missing a beat, he just told him “Murphy”. That’s why we call her Murphy, sometimes, even today. She will, forever be, Murphy. (I have it tattooed beneath her Irish Rose upon my shoulder, so there ain’t no backing out now. 

Part I: Geoffrey

     One day, I got a call that my dad was going into the hospital and an unexplainable feeling overcame me that urged me to go and see him. (He had been in and out a few times…but this time something told me it was time.) My manager, Steven, knowing that he had been sick and in the hospital a few times recently, kept reassuring me that if I needed to take a few days off he understood. I always thanked him but declined, telling him I would know when it was time. We happened to be attending his wedding reception at his house when I got the call from Aunt Christy, and I had to excuse myself, but let him know that time had come. He insisted I go and told me to take whatever time I needed. The next morning, your mother, Tegan and I drove up to see him. When we were almost there, Tegan threw up in the car. That was the first time, ever, that she had gotten sick in a car. So, we drove the rest of the way there choking on the odor of throw up, with the windows down, trying to comfort her. When I arrived at the hospital, he was very tired,yet still alert. He seemed his usual, sarcastic and humerous self. By the next morning, however, there was a considerable change in his energy. I was fortunate enough to spend, what would be his last week on Earth, by his side, surrounded by family and friends. 

   He brought me into this world and showed me how to live, and I was able to be by his side through his journey into the next. It is the last thing a father can teach his son. Although it hurt, there was a certain peace and a humbled understanding that still brings some comfort. That entire week, I felt the presence of God, not just by my father’s bedside, but everywhere I went.

 

 

Almost like a soft whisper, telling me that he was being called home. I understood, now, how much he must have missed his mom and dad, and I was so happy to know that they would be together again. One day, son, I’ll get to see him again, and he and I will watch and wait for you, too.

   While we were visiting in Georgia, the weather was going to drop down to the 20’s for a few days. To myself, I thought how cool it would be if the sky kicked up a little rain and Tegan could see snow fall. While he didn’t live by the Bible or even go to church, my father walked a path that would, no doubts, lead him right to God.  Knowing this for certain, I said a prayer to him quietly, asking for one last miracle: to bring rain and let Tegan see snow flurries. That Thursday morning, I woke up to a minimal amount, but enough to wake Tegan and let her play in it. There was no doubt in my heart that he made that happen. I

Tegan’s first time seeing snow flurries

IAfter.being transferred into hospice care, I understood his life had nothing more to give. When he didn’t want to eat the fish the nurse brought in…I knew he was just waiting for aunt Nancy (his baby sister) to get there so she could have her closure. I had to  to head back but it was hard knowing I had seen him through this far, wondering if I was making the right decision or if I needed to stay and see this through, although he was in a deep sleep now. I knew what he would tell me if he could, but as I drove to fill the gas tank for the drive home I said a prayer and asked him what he wanted me to do. When I pulled up to the pump, a single business card had been left behind, on the gas pump itself, that simply read: Brian. I knew it was him

Like it was put here for me to see

telling me that I was supposed to be there, to fill up on gas and get my family back home. He was reassuring me that he could hear me, and  he would be watching me.  I have never questioned whether he was with me then or any time since. Every time I think about that day, I smile in comfort, and can see him smiling right beside me.

Closure

Click here for part II

Two Years Later