Papa. Oh, my handsome, sweet, loving Papa. A lot of little girls grow up adoring their grandfathers and I was no exception. 

Before I get into the process of his death, I should probably introduce him. 

Leroy James Dowling was his name. He was born in Mount Greenwood on January 10, 1948. He was a husband to Deborah Dowling. He was a father to three children: Sharon, Mark and Michelle. He was a grandfather to seven children: Veronica, Anthony, Declan, Ethan, Finnegan, Evan, and myself. 

Everything began on August 27, 2021 when he got covid. We all thought that this was going to be one sickness and done, but it was all just the beginning. 

From August, 2021 to September, 2023, the death process was set in place and he was meant to go when he did. Just nobody was prepared for it to happen. I am writing this article not only to tell my story, but also to show others that grief is such a terrible thing, but you will be able to overcome the struggles.

September 28, 2023

It was just a normal day. I woke up and had a good day at school during my sophomore year. 

I was getting a ride home from my friend’s mom, Carrie, when my mom gave her a call asking her, “Can you please get Aubrey out of the house and take her to Starbucks for me?”

Carrie didn’t have to ask why, she knew that it had to be something to do with Papa. Everyone knew Papa was sick, but nobody wanted to accept the fact that his sicknesses were getting worse. Carrie drove around the block one time and got another call from my mom. 

“Carrie, she needs to come home now,” she said. 

My anxiety started to sink in when I saw the scared look in Carrie’s eyes. We pulled up to my house. My mom was outside crying. I knew it had to do with Papa. He’s gone. He’s dead. That was my first thought. 

I ran out of the car and fell to the floor, screaming “Is he dead Mom? Please tell me if he is dead?” The screaming was so loud my neighbors came outside to make sure everything was okay. But nothing was okay. I finally built up the courage to walk into my house. I remember every detail like it was yesterday.

Everyone was crying. His primary care doctor was there. His mouth was open. His face was sweaty. His eyes were looking around the room. But once he noticed I was in the house his eyes directly stayed on me. He wasn’t able to talk much, but he was able to mumble. 

“I love you, baby girl,” was our special saying. That’s what he said to me. 

The doctor explained to me that Papa was being placed on hospice, and most likely didn’t have much longer. 

No. No. This is a sick nightmare. This cannot be real. 

I began to break down when I realized that crying and being angry with the world wasn’t going to do anything. I needed to take these final days and spend them correctly. 

Before going to bed, I had everyone leave the room. I sat on the side of the hospital bed in the middle of my living room holding his hand. “I love you, Papa. You are going to get through this.” Then a gentle kiss on his forehead and I was going to sleep, praying he’d still be alive when I woke up the next morning. 

September 29

My mom began making calls to friends and family telling them that it was best to come and visit him. He was doing good that day. He was aware of his surroundings and was even able to start talking a little better. It was mostly full of family and friends visiting. 

Again, before going to bed, I had everyone leave the room. I sat on the side of the hospital bed in the middle of my living room holding his hand. “I love you, Papa. You are going to get through this.” Then a gentle kiss on his forehead and I was going to sleep, praying he’d still be alive when I woke up the next morning. 

September 30

It was Marist homecoming. This was the absolute last thing that I wanted to do. 

Why is it fair for me to go to a dance while my papa is in my living room dying and my whole family is sitting here with swollen eyes from sleepless nights and crying? 

My family was convincing me for hours that I needed to go. I had my dress, date, flowers, everything. I wasn’t going to go. But one conversation with my uncle made me realize I should go. My uncle is such a huge role model in my life, he was the father figure I needed growing up. One of the strongest men I know actually.

“Aubrey, you need to go. Do not sit here and wait around when you should be there.”

Those few simple words all changed my mind. I began getting ready for the dance. I had to redo my makeup seven times due to uncontrollable crying. 

You got this Aubrey. You will be gone for about six hours. You got this. 

I was leaving the house to go to the dance when I got a weird gut feeling that everything was going to be okay for that night. I got to pictures and a lot of people were just apologizing for what my family was going through. It was hard but it made me realize that everything was happening for a reason and I will have loving people around me when death happens. 

I hated every picture I took. My smile was fake. My eyes were swollen. I was not happy. Pictures were over and then it was time for the dance. The dance was long but a good distraction. I went to an after-party for a little bit with my cousin but the night ended early. I came home and he was still alive, which was all that mattered.

Again, before going to bed, I had everyone leave the room. I sat on the side of the hospital bed in the middle of my living room holding his hand. “I love you, Papa. You are going to get through this.” Then a gentle kiss on his forehead and I was going to sleep, praying he’d still be alive when I woke up the next morning. 

October 1

It was my mom and Brandon’s wedding anniversary. We all prayed this wouldn’t be the day he had to go. The whole day we all sat and stared at him. There wasn’t much talking among the family, it was just blank stares into nothing, but we all knew we were thinking the same thing. My mom and Brandon had a cake and were able to happily celebrate the special day to the best of their ability. 

Again, before going to bed, I had everyone leave the room. I sat on the side of the hospital bed in the middle of my living room holding his hand. “I love you, Papa. You are going to get through this.” Then a gentle kiss on his forehead and I was going to sleep, praying he’d still be alive when I woke up the next morning. 

October 2

My mom decided it was best for me to go to school. I couldn’t sit around any longer waiting for the moment he would take his last breath. It was hard being at school but I got through it. All of my teachers had an understanding of what I was going through so they all took it easy on me. I came home from school in an okay mood. 

Papa was still alive and that was all that mattered. My aunts, uncles, and cousins were all at my house. It was around 8:00 p.m. when everyone started to head home. Everyone was saying their goodbyes, not knowing it was going to be their last one. 

Then, the house was quiet. It was my mom, Nana, Brandon, and myself. Brandon went into the kitchen to clean up. My mom, Nana, and I were all sitting looking at Papa. I was holding his hand. 

He took a deep breath and it was over. 

No. Please no.

It was over. Papa was dead. 

All three of us started screaming and crying in pain of the loss. We were all hoping that it wasn’t over but it was.  The house became quiet. The disbelief started to drift away. This was real. 

Did he purposely wait to take his last breath because he wanted it to just be my mom, Nana and I?

We made the call to my aunts and uncles and they came back to the house for the final goodbye. His body. His cold, lifeless body just lying there in the living room was the worst part. I wanted to be able to look away but my eyes were drawn to it. 

The morticians came and took his body. At this time it was Brandon and I sitting in the living room, just sitting and talking. We both knew how sad we were but it was the distraction from what just happened is what we needed. Brandon had a special way of comforting people. He knows exactly what to say in every situation to make me feel better. Brandon was now going to take over Papa’s place in our family. He was now the man of the house.

The memories begin flowing back and forth and you’re lost in a world full of nothing. I didn’t sleep that night. I just stayed up in my room crying, thinking, puking, anything you could think of I was doing. 

My mom. Oh, my sweet, beautiful mother. What is she going to do? 

That’s all I thought about. My mom is my best friend. The relationship I have with her is the one she had with Papa. I was so worried about how she was going to cope with the death. She was heartbroken, but she held herself together for the family. 

The next couple of days were difficult. I was missing school. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t sleeping. I cut everyone off in my life. I was grieving. 

October 8

This was the day of his wake. The day was cold and rainy. Friends and family came together for Papa. There were so many people just crying and laughing about all his memories. There were photo boards surrounding the room. I did a good job of keeping myself together, except for the moments when I had to go to the bathroom and cry alone. 

Fast forward to now. 

I will always remember all the beautiful memories my Papa imprinted in my brain. I still cry every week about his death. But I had realized that it was his time to go. He was in so much pain. He held on for as long as he could. My papa taught me the most important things to know about life. No amount of words or tears can express the amount of love I will always have for that man. 

I will always and forever be his baby girl.