Tonight I lifted Clair
into the bathtub and it hit me like a ton of bricks, I’ll never talk to my
Grandpa again; I can’t go visit him anymore; He is gone.
Today was his funeral.
For the months and even years since my Grandmother died, I know he hasn’t been
all that happy here on earth. He told many people this over the past few months
he wanted to “Go Home.” The past couple
weeks when I heard that he was nearing the end, I was never really able to feel
what was happening, especially with everyone around and all the activities to
keep me busy. I thought I had accepted this in a strange somewhat unemotional
way, which is often how I process things.
At Grandpa’s funeral 7
people got up to share their stories about Grandpa with everyone. Reverend
Larson ended up stopping the sharing time because it just kept going on, but
then he, himself, gave a great testament to Grandpa’s service to the church and
the community. I have never been to a funeral where so many people wanted to share,
and share they did. It was really amazing to hear the stories and be reminded
of the man that Grandpa was. He lived life to the fullest. My favorite line
that Reverend Larson said many times was that Grandpa has so many friends because
he was first a friend to so many. That is such a true statement. I love how
this sharing was able to remind me of the man that my Grandpa was.
I was reminded of the
pride he took in painting when Mom told the store of the day that he came home
from work upset because his boss wanted him to start using a roller instead of
doing everything with a paint brush. He was neat and tidy and took such pride
in his work. This treat is so out the door these days.
I was reminded that he
is part of a generation that has mostly left this earth, the WWII veterans. He
jumped out of a plane with his company in Belgium and France to help free them
from the Nazi’s. He survived such horrific time and saw such horrific things,
but you would never know this by the grateful, fun loving, gentle, caring man
that he was everyday of the rest of his life after that experience.
I was reminded that
when I was a kid and would spend the night at his house, after my bath, he
would always want to brush my hair for me while we watched TV. He told me that
you must brush 100 strokes a day to keep golden beautiful hair and he would do
all 100 of them if I let him.
I was reminded of the
honorable policeman that he was and how the word ‘cop’ was not allowed in our
house or his. Policeman are honorable. Then I found out that one of my Mom’s
cousins became a policemen because grandpa inspired him. I had no idea. Steve
said that Grandpa gave him two good pieces of advice, “Keep your eyes open and
your mouth shut.” In twenty years of police service he was promoted many times
and got accommodations a couple years. He was someone everyone respected. I
know my Grandfather was an honorable man in everything he did.
I was reminded of the beautiful
blessing that I have had being part of a family where two brothers married two
sisters as Joan so eloquently states it. My family was so large because these
two immediate families’ kept our extended family connected better than most for
most of my childhood. My mom must have over 20 cousins and they are all
wonderful. I’m embarrassed to admit that I can’t place faces and names with all
of them, especially as I age. However, I recognize their faces, their kindness,
the years of family picnics, softball games and good times. I am thankful for
each one who was there today to support the family, to honor Grandpa, and to
share their stories and friendly smiles.
I loved the stories my
cousin Tim told about Grandpa. I hadn’t heard some of them before. Grandpa took
care to give to each of us what we needed and help us along. Grandpa was a
special mentor to Tim and I respect their bond tremendously.
I was reminded of how
much my grandfather would sacrifice for anyone, and especially his family by
the story of how he dropped out of school in 7th grade so that he
could take a job and provide for his family, with the special expectation that
it meant that Uncle Stanley, his younger brother, could finish high school and
get a full complete education. And they made this happen!
I was reminded of the
Thanksgivings and Christmas celebrations at Grandma and Grandpa and Vonita and Stanley’s,
of my cousins and the memories we shared. I’ve been horrible at keeping up with
them, but I love them so much. I cherish these memories. They ring out like
yesterday. I never felt more special as a child then when we went to one of
these large celebrations. I thought every family sat down to holidays with
20-30 people for a nice big lovely home cooked meal. It wasn’t until High
School when I realized not everyone was so lucky. What a blessing!
I was reminded of the
importance of a servant’s heart. God wants us to serve one another and Grandpa
took that to heart. Grandpa willingly always helped. I see where my Mom gets
this from; I am not so good at this; and I greatly respect those who serve
others so selflessly. There was always time to lend a hand; yet I’m not sure
how he managed. His life was full, busy, filled, and lived!
Reverend Larson said
that Grandpa poked holes in the darkness with light in the way that he gave
back. This servant’s heart, this love of God, Country and Family, it’s passing
by the wayside with our younger generations in many ways. I wish that wasn’t
the case. I wish my kids could know him and my elders better. I wish I was a
better story teller. Hazel, she’s the great story teller. That’s another lost
art for the current generations who tell stories in 144 characters or less, but
perhaps I am digressing….
I was a paul bearer
today for my Grandfather’s coffin. I was happy to do whatever Mom wanted to
help out. I was surprised that I wanted to tear up doing this. When we put him
into the hearse, Clair came over very upset. She wanted to know why I put Great
Grandpa in a box and sent him away with “Those Men.” She wanted to see him
again before they pulled away. I tried to help her understand that was his
earthy body and his sole was rejoicing in Heaven. She is too young to
understand this. She is still worried for Great Grandpa and for herself. She
NEVER wants to be put in a box. I finally told her she didn’t have to be.
My kids have seen a
lot of death in their short lives. I hope that’s because they have been honored
to know their great generation in ways that many haven’t. It is sad to know my
kids will never know these amazing people whom I loved to spend time with
growing up. I was always ready to jump at the chance to go home with Grandpa
and spend the night with him and Grandma. I remember many dinners with them,
ice cream by the fire before bed, playing games, watching TV, doing project,
Saturday morning shopping trips to A and P, and so much more. I remember walks
after dinner around the circle, where inevitably we would need to stop to chat
with someone to say hello to Grandpa. I
remember my Grandma, as the young Grandma who was active, who played games,
cooked, ran to the corner to “run home with me” when we left their house, who
loved me so. I was reminded of the amazing garden they kept. It was honestly
huge. No one will ever garden like they did. I am reminded of Grandma’s pickles
which died with her disease. I will never taste them again. I am reminded that
Grandpa fostered my earlies interest in photography, with his instant camera.
Boy, I loved when he would let me take a picture with that camera! It was
amazing!
If I can be half the
person my Grandpa was, I’ll be doing okay. He was an amazing person. He blessed
so many. It was evident by the attendance today and the people who visited him
in his final days.
I am grateful for each
sole who reminded me of his amazing sole, of his purpose, of God’s purpose, of
what it means to serve, to love, and to live life God’s way! I will try to tell
my children more stories about my childhood. I will try to write some down too.
I am better at writing them then telling them.
I read Isaiah 61:1-3
today. I’ve never focused on this verse today. It was one Grandpa picked out.
As I read it, I was reminded of a conversation with him a few years ago when
both Grandma and Vonita were suffering their end of life from terrible
diseases. I passed Grandpa in the hall of Fairhaven as I had run quickly to say
hello to Grandma while Vonita and the ladies had Max, a two month old baby, at
their apartment for some cuddles. I said something to Grandpa about how it just
wasn’t fair seeing them both suffering like this. He grabbed my arms and
shoulders strongly and stopped me and said, “God is Good Julie. Look at our
family. We are blessed.” In that moment, I was so proud of him and his faith. I
now take comfort in this verse in a new way and am glad to have had the chance
to read it at his funeral service.
I didn’t get a chance
to sit back and reflect today. Instead, I focused on the children not being
loud or acting up. I focused on worrying about how Mom was doing. I focused on
what others were doing. I didn’t have the chance to get upset and be emotional.
I choose to celebrate. I loved the songs he choose, the music that was played,
and the company that he kept. The closing hymn has been in my head all day and
I want to live by it more – Onward Christian Soldiers!
I love my Grandpa very
much. I love my Grandma very much. I will see them one day in Heaven and I will
look forward to that. Until that day, I will know he is at peace. It was
awesome to hear Reverend Larson say that he can’t always for certain say where
someone has gone when they die, but he knows for sure that God welcomed Grandpa
“Home” with open arms. Grandpa’s faith never wavered. Grandpa loved the Lord;
Grandpa served the Lord; Grandpa loved his friends! Grandpa loved his family!
