In loving memory of my Grandpa

The other day while I was driving to a meeting, I saw an older gentleman walking down the street with a young child. I can only assume that the little girl was his granddaughter. My heart went soft and my eyes got all misty as I saw them walking hand in hand. The little girl laughing and smiling and the older man smiled with adoration and love at the little girl. The absolute pleasure that he found in her laughter and her words was evident.

I was taken back to a different time and place. I remember being that little girl going for walks with my grandpa. I remember dazzling him with stories from my elementary school days. I would sit on his lap and he would read me stories from the bible, or poetry. I was probably the only 7-year-old able to quote "Casey at the Bat" by Ernest Lawrence Thayer.

I remember everyday we would have a diet Coke, and an apple. Grandpa use to tell me "an apple a day keeps the doctor away," I believed that the more apples I ate, the less doctor visits I would have all because my grandpa told me so.

As I grew, I learned to have a love and respect for poetry, I would rent books from the library and sit at my grandfather's house for hours analyzing Emily Dickenson, William Shakespeare, and Edgar Allen Poe. I would sit on the floor by his recliner, or in a rocking chair and we would talk about the authors and the writing techniques for hours. I never tired of the knowledge that he gave me.

During the early teen years when I would fight with my dad, and we got into it really good, I ran to my grandpa. He was always there for me to cry to and he would try his hardest to explain to me why my dad was mad at me. He helped me through some really rough times, but thanks to him my father and I are very close.

When he was diagnosed with cancer, I watched this strong man that I had almost hero-worshipped lose his hair and become very frail. He pretended to the world that it didn't matter but when my sister and I went and had our haircut off, I walked into his house and told him that we donated our hair, he cried. He was so happy that his teenage grandchildren wanted to help anyway they could.

As the years went by, I started talking to my grandpa about boys. Weird I know, but I would always bring them by his house and if he didn't approve of them, then it was only a matter of time before they would be gone. He had two tests, they had to be able to have a conversation with him without looking like fools and they had to sit through a seven hour long A&E movie of "Pride and Prejudice," no one ever made it that far.

My grandmother would stare at us like we were insane when we watched "Pride and Prejudice" twice -- in one day. I can't count the number of times I went to his house to watch that movie, or other classics that featured Audrey Hepburn, Carey Grant or Grace Kelly.

When I left home for college I still called my grandpa every chance I got, when summer break came and I would be home for the following three months he was ecstatic. I spent every waking moment I could with him. Working nights in the local factory, and sleeping during the day limited the time, but I still went out of my way as much as possible to be there.

One time in particular stands out. I went with my grandparents to a few yard sales; I had planned to go to bed as soon as I was finished with work. But when my grandfather asked me to go with them and wanted to spend the day with me, I couldn't say no. Later in the afternoon my shocked father asked me what I was still doing up. I told him that grandpa asked me to spend the day with him, I told him about the shopping trip and lunch. My dad looked at me like I had gone crazy and wanted to know if I realized I had to work 12hours that night. I laughed and told my dad that I remembered work, but when my grandpa asked me for something, I wouldn't say no, even if I had to work 16 hours.

When my grandfather thought that his cancer might have come out of remission, I was the first person (besides my grandma) he told. Fortunately the test came back benign. The amount of tears I cried when he told me were overwhelming, but they were nothing compared to the tears that I cried when different tests didn't come back negative.

Because of his heart attacks and high blood pressure that runs in my family, my grandfather took a lot of medication. Without this medication, he would have died. However, one of the side affects to this was sclerosis of the liver and eventual kidney failure. When I was in my fourth year of college, my grandfather did the only thing that I have ever been mad at him for. He didn't tell me that he was sick, and he didn't want the rest of my family to tell me. Eventually my sister caved and said, "You know grandpa is sick, right?"

I immediately returned home from school planning on skipping my last two weeks of classes and taking a break. Obviously you can imagine how that went over.

The only time my grandfather ever objected to a decision I made was when I informed him of my plans. Grandpa told me that he loved me, but if I quit because of him it would be the biggest mistake of my life. So, after some arguing, that would involve my parents, I went back to school, packed my stuff, aced my finals and went home as fast as possible.

Over the weeks that followed, I spent as much time with him as I could. We talked about everything and I relived a lot of the stories that we shared when I was a child. I talked him into going outside and sitting on the porch, or going for a drive in the convertible with the top down, I did everything I could think of to help him get better, my family told me later that when I came home his spirits lifted, unfortunately everything I did or tried to do wasn't enough.

My grandfather became sicker, and eventually he had to be admitted to the hospital. Those days were the longest of my life. My cousins, aunts, uncles, great-uncles all came in to tell him goodbye. I waited until everyone had left for the day and my grandmother was out of the room talking to the pastor of my family's church.

I took my turn with my grandpa, I held his hand and I told him how much I loved him and that I would always be with him. I told him he was my favorite and always would be and in the dark I started to recite from memory the poem that he had said to me and other members of my family for so many years. The hardest thing I have ever done was tell him that everything would be all right, and that though life without him would be hard that I would make it. I told him that he had done a great job taking care of his family and that it was his time to go.

I slept at the hospital that night, my uncle and I took turns alternating sleeping in the hospital chairs with my grandma in grandpa's room. That next morning I sat at my grandfather's bedside with my grandma, around 11 o'clock in the morning with members of his family surrounding him my grandfather passed away.

The days that followed passed in a blur. I don't remember going to work, eating or even sleeping. I just remember being very lost and alone. At the funeral I stood up in front of my family and friends of my grandfather and recited that poem that he would say to all of us, that poem and his memory gave us strength.

Later that night, I went to visit my grandmother, she was sitting alone in her house and I talked to her. I developed a new amount of respect for my 4-foot tall grandmother. She kept her head held high and didn't shed a tear when anyone was around. She handled my grandfather's death with grace, I know it hurt her inside, but she was strong for her family and that is what we needed. To this day, my grandmother still amazes me with her faith in God, and knowing that my grandfather is happy and without pain, believing that she will see him again someday.

A week to the day after he died, I went back to cemetery. I cried my tears and swore to myself that I would do everything I could to live up to the potential that he expected of me. I knew he was proud of me, he told me so numerous times before he died, but I wanted more.

When I graduated from Indiana State, I carried his picture in my hat as I walked across that stage I wished with all my heart that he could be there for me to give one last hug and tell him that I loved him. I know this sounds silly, but I know that he was smiling and happy for me. My grandmother wrote in my graduation card how proud he was of my accomplishment and I proudly have that card on my bookshelf next to his picture and that of my grandmother.

Someday, if I ever get married, I will carry a red rose for him. If I am meant to be a mother I will name my child in his memory, William for a boy and Elizabeth (from Pride and Prejudice) for a girl, and I will tell my children of the great-grandfather that they will never know and the stories and poetry that he told me when I was a child.

One thing my grandpa taught me was that life is always going to keep going, no matter how much we want to we can't stop it. We take the hand that we are dealt and we live. The best thing, the only thing that anyone can do with life is to live it and make those memories to be remembered by.