My paternal Grandfather's birthday is tomorrow. He would be pushing his late nineties (the exact birth year escapes me at present). In late 1990, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. In early 1991, after a very short battle, he left the pain and suffering for eternal rest. Grandpa Bill retired when I was in kindergarten or first grade or perhaps before that. They sold the family home, bought a trailer, and moved across the state to be near us. When my parents bought our family farm, Grandpa moved the trailer directly next door on our land. For most of my life they were like a second set of parents. My Grandpa was always there, a key thread of the fabric that was my life. It was terribly painful and traumatic to deal with his death.
Grandma called early that morning crying that she couldn't wake him up. My Dad was in the barn working and there was no time to wait. Mom woke me and I drove the old station wagon down the ragged gravel driveway so fast I'm surprised it didn't fall to pieces. The moment we entered their home and saw Grandma at the kitchen table, we knew. She knew too, but couldn't tell us. All she could still say was that he wouldn't wake up. Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done in life was going to the bedroom and putting my hand on his cold neck to check for a pulse. I was just seventeen; I grew up that day. Mom went to get my Dad & I called for the ambulance and sat with Grandma till they silently arrived, lights flashing, to take him away. Even though we told her he was gone, she kept hoping they could wake him up...
While I wasn't at home for their deaths, my Grandma Hazel, Aunt Charlotte, & Uncle Sam all later died in that trailer. During their lives, I could never enter the master bedroom again. The old trailer has long been removed, but it is still special to stand where they lived and died. I'll be home next weekend and need to spend a few minutes thinking at the old site. I'll stand by Grandma's old Magnolia? Tree, the only remnant it was her home. It scares me and I get chills to stand there. It also gives me more peace than visiting their graves to stand where they lived; where they helped make me who I am today.
It's not just his birthday that compels me to remember Grandpa Bill this morning. I can't go there today, but I'll eventually share. I love my family.
1 comment:
I know exactly how you feel. My grandparents lived 10 feet from my parents house. They were my second parents as well. They both passed in their home and I am unable to go into that house again. It is always hard when I go home and say hello to my parents I have to stop myself from saying, "I will be back, I am going to go say hello to Grams and Gramps". Aren't we lucky that we had such a relationship with our grandparents? I am grateful for that time together, over 25 years of time.
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