In Memoriam…
Well, after two months of up and down, in and out of the hospital and recovery facilities, my dear grandfather has passed. I got the call from my dad last night at around 11:15. In spite of knowing it would happen, in spite of expecting it when the phone rang, you still just can’t seem to prepare enough for these things. It’s surreal to think that he’s gone. No more Thursday visits for Laurel. No more of his winking sense of humor. No more kisses on my cheek when I say goodbye. Obviously, when we mourn for the loss of a loved one, we don’t usually mourn for them, we mourn for ourselves. We mourn the loss of the relationship. They don’t care; for all intents and purposes, they are a lot happier…or at least at peace with the cares of this world. We are the ones who have to still make peace with their departure. I am blessed to have had a relationship with Grandpa that was enriched, had no regrets, and didn’t leave me missing anything. But right now the memories come flooding in and I’m back and forth between gratitude and heartbreak. I suppose it is to be expected.
The thing that floors me so much is the relationship he and Laurel had. I can’t figure it out but he gravitated to her immediately and we just let him do it. For the five and a half years since she was born, he has made weekly visits; at first to my parents’ house when Debbie went back to work near their house (and our house was a decent distance away for him), and then to ours when we settled in our current home a little closer to his. He loved his little girl and absolutely doted on her. He did virtually whatever she asked and when he didn’t want to, they bickered like a couple of kids. They went for walks together, they played together, these last several months, she even managed to get him to play video games on our old Playstation. Imagine that…my five year old somehow gets my 92 year old grandfather to play video games… It’s those memories and that relationship that keeps the persistent lump in my throat. Every time I think of the things they did together and consequently the relationship Debbie was able to develop with him, I come right back to how much I’ll miss him.
These last days for him over the past week have been some of the most touching I have experienced. I keep reflecting on the conversation and hang-time we had for an hour at the hospital where, in spite of his dementia, he was still sharp and his wit was still in full force as he watched Laurel frolic around the room singing her made-up songs and giving him that undying smile he always had when he was with her. I reflect on the last time I saw him alive when he, so restless and agitated on the bed, still knew Laurel was there, still knew he was surrounded by his loving family, and still managed to squeeze out some silly faces with Laurel to make her giggle. This was a man who always had time for his family, always lent a helping hand when he was capable, and always could be depended upon. Even up to the end, he stubbornly would not let go because he never gave up when it came to things that were important to him. He had a fire to him, yet he was one of the most genteel men I’ve known. It’s funny you don’t stop to recognize the qualities of your family until a time such as this when you are forced to reflect on them. I suppose there is a certain measure of God’s grace in that since it helps bring to mind the things we often take for granted, that we might not take them for granted anymore.
So the next few days are still going to be full of tears, memories, joy, joking, sadness, and anticipation for the final ceremonial departure. There are still feelings, thoughts, and memories to reconcile but it’s all part of the process. In the meantime, those items he brought for us (usually as hints of something he thought we needed to do) are going to receive special places in our home. The blankets he brought Laurel, the extra towels he thought we needed, the pooper scooper to keep Moose’s mess cleaned up out of the yard so the kids can play freely…all these things will continually bring great memories of a great man and the great times he’s spent with us. And that is more than we could have wanted…or thought we needed. On top of it all, even when the blankets and towels wear out, the pooper scooper breaks, and the little gifts are forgotten, we are left with the family cabin in northern Michigan that carries his memory and that of his brothers who witnessed their father build it with his own two hands. My Grandma told me the other day on our last visit that we better get up there…it’s what he would want us to do…we do more for him by being up at the cabin with our family than we do sitting back watching him deteriorate. And I knew exactly what she meant. Though I knew I would feel compelled to stick around for the final days and arrangements, you better believe we are making a beeline for that place as soon as we can. And it will be one of the most meaningful vacations we’ve had…and I trust he will, in no small sense, be there enjoying it with us.
I love you Grandpa…I miss you…I look forward to seeing you again in a place that doesn’t have the baggage of this place. Thank you for your love for us…thank you for your kindness and generosity…thank you for loving my little girl so much and giving her life and care that few little girls get the opportunity to enjoy. You’ve changed us and given us more than we could have ever asked for. Godspeed…