Memories

With my Brother in laws father passing away, I am reminded of my Grandpa's death 6 years ago. So in his memory I have of my Grandpa, I thought I would share a piece of writing I wrote about the last moments I had with my Grandpa.



I will never forget a day, 6 years ago this coming November. I was working for an Electrical company in Salem, Oregon while living near downtown Portland. The drives were terrible, a commute of forty-five minutes for the morning drive to work, and sometimes up to two hours on the way home. I was almost thirty minutes into my commute when I received a call.
The call came from my second oldest sister Kelly. Kelly spoke to me with a soft voice, asking me, “How was work?” I gave a short reply. Then she asked me, “Are you on your way home?” I told her I was headed home and that traffic wasn’t too bad; so, I should be home in another twenty minutes. Kelly paused; I started to notice the trembling in her voice, and instantly I started panicking. I knew exactly what she was about to say, as the words fell from her lips. “We are all headed to Grandpa and Grandma’s, can you join us?” I took a deep breath and replied, “Sure.” The hardest part in processing everything that had just occurred was that I had to contain my feelings and tears to finish the thirty minutes left in my drive, now on course to my grandparent’s house.
It was a beautiful fall day when I showed up to my grandparent’s house, but I couldn’t even feel the sun shining as it fell in the sky. It took me a few moments after arriving to make it to the front door. As my hand rose to knock on the door, the door swiftly swung open. There was Kelly, her eyes full of tears, red, and puffy. He was gone. My Grandpa was gone. I joined the rest of the family in the living room; I was the last to arrive. Just looking at everyone, my heart dropped. I had never lost a family member before. I had lost a few friends in a drunk driving accident a few years earlier, but my Grandpa and I were close.
My Grandpa and I built houses, went on walks at the coast, and took adventures together. I knew he had cancer, but he never showed his pain, always had a smile, and a warm hug to greet me. While my family and I shared tears and stories we could remember of him, I felt regret. Since my Grandpa took a turn for the worse I never came to visit him. It had been over a month since I had seen him. I did this because I didn’t want to remember him as a frail, sick man. I wanted to remember him in what I considered his prime, remember him like I did building houses, and being adventurous. By doing this, what had I done? Did I give up chances to spend time with him before he left us? Was I being selfish? I knew he had wanted to see me, as I had wanted to see him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so.
After visiting with my family for about an hour, my Grandma asked me if I wanted to see him. Thinking to myself, “I haven’t ever seen a dead body before; is it going to be creepy?” She walked me into their bedroom. There he was lying in bed. He didn’t wake up from his nap. He looked so peaceful, yet he looked frail, and nothing like he had months before. I gave my Grandma a hug before she left the room, and I sat in a chair at the foot of the bed. I sat there quiet in thought for a few minutes, not sure what to do I just started talking. I continued to carry on a conversation with my Grandpa for a better part of an hour. I talked to him about work, and how I enjoyed what I was doing with plans of becoming an electrician. I talked to him about random things, just anything that came to mind. I felt a warm feeling, like a burning in my chest; it stopped me mid sentence. My whole tone and conversation changed. I was no longer talking about petty things; I was starting to tell him of my troubles, my worries, my fears.
The last part of our conversation I came to the realization that I wasn’t living my life how I should. I wasn’t making my family proud, or even including them much in my life. I was making myself the black sheep. I made promises of returning to church, cleaning myself up, my speech, and life in general. I made a covenant with him, the last day I saw him. If he could help me and be with me spiritually, I would try my hardest to make him proud, live up to my expectations, and what my family wanted of me. I was fuzzy on how, but I knew with his help I could get past this part in my life.
I stayed on the track I promised my Grandpa for a little while; I faced addictions with a brunt force, quitting cold turkey. I started attending church again with my family. I also tried to fill my life with the good things around me, trying to surround myself with those good things, and good people even my family. This probably only lasted 6 months after we put him in the ground. What you could call the “stresses” in life got to me. I ended up right back where I was, if not farther in than prior to his death. I was tired of feeling emotions, having little triggers that would set me off. I needed to find a way to greave, but didn’t know how. Loosing my Grandfather was an extremely pivotal moment in my life. It may have taken me along time to really understand what I took away from the experience, but the experiences I have had due to his loss and the knowledge gained from it have shaped me into who I am today. It may only be a small piece of who I have become, but I don’t think I could be the compassionate, genuine, sincere person I am today. It took me years to find the person I promised him I would be that day; I am not 100% there, but I am getting closer and closer each day. It is a life long journey. I may never reach that bench mark, but I know he is proud of me, and how I live my life. What more can I ask for?