A Moment in My Life – Thursday, September 17, 2020
For days I knew this call would come, but I didn’t know when. Mystery solved. The dreaded call came this morning that my cousin Heman breathed his last breath at 2:30 a.m.
His sister, Lena, and her husband, Kenton, were finally allowed to visit at the same time with Heman in the hospital this past Sunday. Heman looked unrecognizable after months of torment from pancreatic cancer that spread to his liver and stomach. They agreed that it was finally time for hospice. Lena started a FaceTime call so my sisters and I could visit with Heman, probably for the last time, and that call was the last visit for us as a family.
I’m sad that we had to say goodbye to Heman so soon, but considering after half a year of enduring agonizing pain and suffering, it was a relief that now he won’t suffer anymore. Due to Covid-19, he went through all of this without visiting with extended family and friends. He was a champ who fought the good fight even though the doctors gave up on him a month ago and repeatedly recommended he begin hospice.
He was one of the most loving and kindest people I know, who had to grow up too soon caring for everybody else and didn’t get to enjoy living his life for himself yet. By the time he was 18, he had lost his second parent to cancer, and he became guardian to his nine-year-old sister, Lena. Last month, he turned 45 from his hospital bed, overwhelmed with unbearable pain instead of celebratory festivities.
I was blessed having known Heman, and I was looking forward to hanging out with him after Covid-19. Since my mother’s passing in 2017, we became closer and began forging a bond, and I thought our family was finally going to get our happily ever after. With this unexpected turn of events, I guess that’s not going to happen now. There’s a bit of a change in plans. Heman will hang out with my mother in heaven instead of with us here on earth.
Hey Heman, I guess that means we won’t be making that El Faro burrito test tasting date after Covid-19 ends, after all. It won’t be the same without you, but I will get a burrito in honor of you, and I will toast the wonderful person you were. I miss you already. You will live on in our hearts forever. Goodbye for now!