Article by Rachel Noel: Peace in Death

I am posting this on my uncle's birthday for my readers at The "I'm Gonna Do That" Girl.

Peace in Death

The Gianiny family gathered in a tight bundle in the bright light of the late afternoon. The open floor plan of the rented beach house was dwarfed by the presence of the entire family gathered in one room around one man. Jonathan Gianiny, the youngest son of Lyle and Margaret Gianiny, had just arrived for the family’s annual beach trip.

The journey up the stairs to greet the family had been different this year. Jonathan required the help of four adults to get up the stairs, because he could not get out of his wheelchair nor unhook himself from the oxygen tank that was carried only a few feet behind him by his wife, Carol.

The difference this year, was that Jonathan would have to sleep on the couch upstairs, and not because the house was short on beds, but because this year, Jonathan was dying.

Jonathan Gianiny, more lovingly deemed Jon by his family members, was welcomed into the world by Lyle and Margaret in 1954. This put him last in line of three siblings, Carole and Lynn Gianiny preceding him, the latter only by two years.

The family grew up very close. Lyle, who had two brothers and one sister, and Margaret, who had two sisters, kept their children close to their cousins. The families even started an annual trek to Ocean City, MD, the beach closest to their Washington, D.C. home.

When the families got older, it was harder to plan the Ocean City trips, but Lyle and Margaret made sure that their children and grandchildren were able to continue the tradition by funding the rental of a beach house in Duck, NC.

            Jon, who was normally the tallest and most burley member of the family, had to stay horizontal on the couch throughout his stay at the beach. Instead of setting up the canopy, as was custom, he had to helplessly stay inside. The son, brother, husband, uncle, and stepfather, who once had a decided, but undeniably goofy presence, was forced into quiet. It took so much effort for Jon to speak that he would get winded.

            Jon’s condition undeniably took the toll on the family, but they were determined not to let him see their grief. There were muffled sobs coming from unopened doors and whispered conversations that would come to a halt when others would impede. But the Gianiny family, though dealing with their grief, was planning something else: how to make Jon feel less sick for the days he was at the beach.

            Jon met his wife, Carol, 13 years ago. Jon, who had just ended a long-term relationship, and Carol, who was recently divorced, seemed to be a perfect fit. It wasn’t long before Jon brought Carol, along with her children, Angela and Jesse Foy, along on the annual beach trip. The two were married a year later in a church in Leesburg, VA.

            Carol, who was an avid Christian, and Jon began to attend church regularly, more increasingly in the most recent years when they found a place they felt was their spiritual home at Church of the Holy Spirit.

            The Christian faith that Jon and Carol had been building over the years was put to the test when, just after the couple had purchased their dream home, a small farm outside of Leesburg, Jon was diagnosed with liver cancer.

            The Gianiny family gathered around Jon, on the floor or in chairs. The family had to weave in and out of electric cords that were attached to the amp that sat beside the television. Jon’s son-in-law, Nathaniel Davis, had brought his electric guitar and Jon’s niece, Caroline Noel, had brought her acoustic guitar. Jon, who was a drummer, did not have a set of drums. He was not strong enough to play them anymore. But Nathaniel had brought a drum board, which even with the lightest of touches would emit sound. He placed the board in Jon’s hands, who then tapped his fingers over the various buttons to get his bearings. He looked up at his family and smiled. Hours of music ensued.

            The family gathered in the living room every night that week, instruments and voices creating a cacophony of sound. Carol had brought as binder full of his favorite Christian songs, and even those who neither knew nor liked them joined in because they knew it was what Jon wanted. Even his parents, who weren’t fans of Led Zeppelin, honored Jon’s request when he longed to play “The Song Remains the Same.” He would go to bed exhausted each evening, but he would frequently whisper “One more!”

            Even more pressing of an issue than the nightly “Hooten-Gianiny” was how to get Jon down to the beach to see the ocean.

            Jon, who was very weak, was able to come to the beach because of the devotion of family. But they, alone, could not provide all of the services and equipment he would need. It was with the help of Hospice that Jon truly was able to make it to the beach.

            Hospice provides many services to its patients, including providing equipment, counseling and therapies in addition to the patient’s medical regimen. The main goal of Hospice is to provide care on more than one level. They function under the assumption that “those involved in the process of dying have a variety of physical, spiritual, emotional and social needs. The nature of dying is so unique that the goal of the hospice team is to be sensitive and responsive to the special requirements of each individual and family.”

            Lynn, Jon’s sister, began searching the phone books for Hospice services in Duck, NC. If they could not provide a way to get Jon down to the beach, she was sure that there would be some service like it that could provide the family with a way to get him off of the couch and onto the sand.

            She found a free lifeguard service that assisted in taking the disabled to the beach. She called the service and they set up an appointment to come and pick him up later that day.

            The lifeguard arrived in a van that was large enough to carry three of Jon. He got out and helped the family take Jon down from the top-most floor and into the vehicle that would take him to the beach. The drive was less than 30 seconds, but the last feat was to get Jon up the boardwalk and down the sandy stairs that led to the family’s canopy. The lifeguard, with the help of the family, easily got Jon down onto the beach.

            Jon’s sisters dug, with their hands, a hole in front of Jon. Lynn took a bucket down to the water, filled it to its brim, and poured the fresh ocean water into the hole. Jon placed his feet inside the warm water and smiled. He stayed there for an hour, a task that had seemed impossible only the day before. The lifeguard returned for Jon, as helpful on the return as he was on the way down.

            The next day, Carol decided quite early in the day that she should take Jon home. She said he just seemed like he needed to go home after so many exhausting days at the beach. She and her daughter gathered their things in less than an hour before they were ready to pack Jon in the car.

            The same four men to bring Jon upstairs gently took him back down again. Behind him was a precession of family, young and old, waiting to say goodbye. He was gently placed in the car before he was bombarded by hugs and kisses from the mob of family that stood outside of the car.

“It was almost cinematic,” Lynn said. “Everyone said goodbye.”

            The next afternoon, the family got a call from Carol. Jon had died at 2:30 p.m.

            “He said “I have to go now,” and he was gone,” Carol said.

            Three days later, the family was gathered, not inside a drafty beach house, but a sweltering church that dated back to the Civil War. The cousin’s from Jon’s childhood arrived in droves. The church, which could hold less than 100, was packed. Jon’s fellow congregates at the Church of the Holy Spirit were also there. The people who stood in and flowed out of the church were there for one reason: to celebrated Jon’s life.

            The worship band from Church of the Holy Spirit played many of Jon’s favorite songs. His pastor led the services as a friend would have, less concerned with ritual than love. Lynn, who was deemed to write a eulogy, took her place at the pulpit before the grieving group. She used humor to invoke laughter, Jon’s favorite sound.

            “I know he wouldn’t want us to cry,” Carole, his oldest sister, said, “but it’s okay to cry a little bit. We just miss him.”

            Hospice, who provided care to Jon in his last days, also provides care to the family in the aftermath of a death. They provide support groups and ways to find them. The international foundation has a local chapter almost everywhere. Hospice, in most places, provides this grief support for as long as a year. Carol is currently utilizing the services and has found a support group.

            But the biggest support for Carol and the rest of the Gianiny family has been each other. In the months following Jon’s death, the family has added a lot of gas mileage to their cars. The road trips, which can be as long as five hours, are for support in the loss of a loved one, of Jonathan Gianiny.

The Gianiny family will again take their annual beach trip in the summer of 2010 to spread Jon’s ashes. In his last days, he had spoken to Carol about what to do with his remains. He deemed Duck, NC, his final resting place, as it was his favorite place in the world.

Though the family will be mourning Jon’s death next July, they will be celebrating his memory, as well as new life. His nephew, Andrew Giacomazzi, just welcomed a baby girl, Nicole, on the morning of Nov. 20.