My grandfather passed away this last Tuesday. I knew that it was going to happen, and frankly wanted it sooner than later. I had thirty-two years getting to know this man and for most of those thirty-two years, he was a vibrant, outgoing, independent, funny, ornery man. He had a sparkle in his eye, a joke ready to share, and a story that was probably a bit embellished. As a little girl, I knew I was a princess in his eyes. As an adult, I still knew the same.
It was very hard to see as time passed on and he reached his late 80's, that his body was not allowing him to do some of the things he loved - like drive a motor home all over creation. I am pretty sure that I inherited that independent wanderlust from him. I love driving my car (a motor home is too big) all over creation too. In fact, the first time I ever drove the motor home (and one of the last) was when he took me on a road trip up to Canada and back to look at colleges. He was tired, and always confident in my abilities and a bit daring, he had me drive the motor home on a windy, narrow back road in Oregon. It really scared both of us (I had only been driving a few years as it was) and I didn't drive for long.
Eventually, his body kept him from being able to do construction, which he loved so dearly, it kept him from walking, and eventually even standing. That fierce stubborn independence was broken and it was incredibly hard to see that. To see him lying in a hospital type of bed was not the kind of life I wanted for him and knowing that he was headed to heaven, where his body would be whole again, I knew it was better for that to happen sooner than later.
Still, after having someone who treasured you, and that you treasured so much, in your life for thirty-two years, and then gone, is not an easy thing to deal with. I prefer to avoid ugly things in this world, and death is one of them. There were plenty of things to distract me from my grief during the days that followed his immediate passing, but I dreaded the funeral for many reasons. One, that I knew I'd cry a lot, which I did, but also I knew that it would make it real. In my mind it was easy to think he was still alive, I just hadn't seen him in a few days. That was normal. I preferred that. I knew at the funeral I'd have to face that reality that he really was gone. I'd rather be in denial.
Then came the funeral. It was very difficult at first because the first two hymns we sang were some favorites of mine - Blessed Assurance and In the Garden - and I believe some favorites of his. These are a few of the only songs I play on my guitar, but I love to play and sing them. When my grandfather was not doing well as one point, months ago, I took my guitar to the hospital and played these songs and sang for him hoping to bring him some comfort. His mind was not clear enough to really let me know how he felt about it, but none the less, it was a powerful memory for me.
When it came time for people to share the stories, it brought back all the good memories I had of my grandfather. He always liked to make people laugh and we found ourselves laughing through much of that time at the crazy antics he pulled both as a child and an adult. I heard stories I had forgotten that he had told us through the years, and I also heard some new ones. I love to hear the stories, but they bring back a grandfather that I will miss dearly and the grandfather that I wanted more time with here on earth.
I didn't want to leave the funeral then because it was final. After that, we would go on our way and my grandfather would now be just a memory. It was too final. Funny how you can dread something so much and then when you are there, not want to let it go. I guess that is how grief works.
Why do I call my grandfather a hero? There were certainly things about him that were not heroic, but as a child, in my eyes, he was a hero. That is when that sweet child innocence sees the world and it's people around them through rose-colored glasses. My grandpa could do anything, he was friends with everyone, he told the funniest jokes, he could fix anything. I was his princess. Plus, he fought in WWII. His courage and sacrifice helped to keep our country free and strong for people like me. He was one of the bravest people too.
Now as an adult, the rose-colored glasses have come off and I know the good and the bad. The world is much more complex. At times I'd prefer to keep those glasses on and not know about the bad, but life must be faced. Still, there are those sweet moments when you realize your memories are dear and you can be choose to be a little child like and take the good and ignore the bad. Even at thirty-two, I still was my grandpa's princess. He was a funny, dear man who left a huge amazing family legacy of people whose lives have been touched by a man who did have heroic moments and was a hero.
I am sad to not see him and that that chapter of my life has been closed. It was not a chapter I wanted to end, but I am not writing the story. I know who is writing the story so I do have a sneak peak at the ending and I know I will see him again. I know that now his body is whole and he is again able to walk and be strong and independent. He is exploring new places and reuniting with those he loved dearly and had gone before like his mother and his wife, my dear grandmother who passed almost four years earlier. For that I rejoice and for that I was happy to let him leave this life. He is in the presence of our Lord. I am grateful for that hope.
4And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. Revelations 21:4
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