This week, my grandfather passed away after a long and fruitful life. I just want to honor him by remembering some of the good times.
He always had a way with a good-natured ribbing. Whenever I came to visit in the last decade or so, since I live in a different time zone, I tend to stay up way too late and sleep in to what would be my normal wake up time (west coast). That would rarely go unnoticed by Grandpa. I’ll always remember the cheerful, “Good afternoon,” I would be greeted with as I shuffled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
I’ll never forget the times when he and Grandma would tell stories from their life together and if one of them got the details a little wrong, there would be some amusing bickering going on over who remembered it better. Seventy years might get a little jumbled up, I imagine. That’s how long he and my grandmother were married. I’m just in awe of them.
He was a no nonsense, hard-working man who rarely complained. Even as his health and mobility deteriorated, he just took it all in stride and did what he had to do to get around.
I didn’t get to grow up around my grandparents like most of my other cousins. We moved away to Texas when I was three. But I did enjoy the summers we spent with them and the few years I lived nearby in my 20s. They always made me feel instantly at home.
I know that I am one of the lucky ones to have had grandparents well into my adulthood.
My heart goes out to my grandmother who will now have to navigate life without him. I know she is strong and I know she is surrounded by people who love her. And I hope those things are of some comfort to her. It seems the price of admission for life and love is the possibility of loss. There’s just no getting around that one.