Never the same...

Charles Jackson Venable

April 29, 1935- October 18, 2007

There is a quote that I've heard many times that states: "Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Others stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never the same." This is my current circumstance.

I was born April 29, 1985, exactly 50 years after my Mom's uncle Charlie. I only have a few memories of him before I was about thirteen. I blame that on the fact that every time he saw me he rubbed his scruffy beard on my cheek and gave me a big kiss. I was, and am still not, a fan of facial hair, and only remember up until that time that he was a relative who had a scratchy face. 

Some time in my teenage years we began going on outings with Charlie and began celebrating our birthdays together. Then we began celebrating Memorial Day together with Dacula's parade that Charlie and the dogs would ride in with the other antique tractors. He became a fixture at important events and would always make time for me. 

                        This picture is from the day I got a new car. He helped my parents surprise me.                        

This is my high school graduation with Charlie, my mom and Granddaddy Sam

He moved me into my dorm room freshman year of college, took me on countless dinners to Raffertys, introduced me to restaurants with all you can eat policies like The Redd House and Journey's End, went to Blue Willow every Christmas. 

Our time together was not enough. 

Charlie never married. He was one of the only farmers left in Gwinnett County. He worked all of his life at General Motors and didn't turn from hard work. He loved his dogs: Mike, Josh, Lady, Tank, and more. He had a huge heart. He went to Dacula Methodist most all of his life. He was a small town southern man in every way possible.

I was driving home from Athens on the last day of September 2007. I graduated that May with a degree to teach, but felt the need to get another degree. I decided on nursing school at Auburn University. I registered and went for orientation. I had always wanted to go to Auburn, but once there I felt sick and something didn't feel right. I couldn't place it and didn't understand it, but ended up coming back home with plans to re-evaluate my life. Driving home in September, I called Charlie as I do most times on my way home from Athens. Another voice answered the phone and told me that Charlie was ill and couldn't come to the phone. I did not understand this because he was a strong man and loved me and even if he was sick he could at least tell me that himself. But he didn't, and I drove home upset and confused. 

I told my Mom what happened and the next day we went over to check on Charlie. Long story to say, he was shortly admitted to the hospital. There were so many problems along the way and I truly believe that  we were not given the appropriate care. This post is not about the health care system, but please do not use Emory Eastside in Snellville. I try not to remember all the mistakes as I remember his last month. 

On October 18, 2007 I was babysitting at my sister's house. I would get updates throughout the day that told me to get to hospital as soon as possible. I couldn't leave until about 5:30pm from Cumming to get to Duluth. (He was at Gwinnett Medical Duluth at this point). God ordained the rest of the night. I got to hospital at 6:30pm and went directly into his room. All I remember is climbing stairs and then going through a walkway straight into his room. I somehow bypassed all security and the visiting hour policy. For about thirty minutes I told him to hang on, that I would hold his hand the whole way. I was at home (now I know why I didn't stay in Auburn) and could take care of him. Eventually my Mom and I stepped outside. We were the only two there and she told me that she thought he needed to hear me say it was OK. She said that she thought he was holding on for me and that instead I needed to tell him I would be OK if he decided to go on to heaven. My mom is an angel. She has a way about her that is divine. She was right, but I was angry. How could I do that? At 7:15pm, I told him. All the family members came in around that time. He died at 7:40pm. 

One of the reasons I am a nurse today in the ICU environment is because of Charlie. When he was passing, I was on his right holding his hand. He looked over at me and there were bells and whistles going off on all the monitors, but I held his hand and then he closed his eyes. The nurse came in after a while and told me that we would have to step outside for a while. She said, "He must've really loved you." I asked, "How do you know that?" She said, " He looked at you. " I didn't understand. She said, "He had his head turned to the left since he arrived and as he was going he turned and looked directly at you." She was right. I didn't think anything of it, but he looked at me right before he closed his eyes. That nurse's name was Laura.

I think about her. Her shift was over at 7:00pm, but it was well after 7:40pm and she was still there talking to our family and helping us understand what would happen next. Maybe somehow I carry Laura with my at my job and Charlie, too. Maybe someday some family will lose a child and I will somehow be an encouraging voice in that darkness. Maybe I am able to understand that as much of a gift the birth of a child is, it is also a miracle to be present when someone goes to heaven. I will always treasure that moment and remember. 

Four years later. Never the same...