How do you put someone's life into a few short words? How do you express everything they've meant to you, while giving an honest representation of their time here on earth? There were good times and if we are honest, some bad times, making for good memories and bad. We all have a little bit of both in us, anyway. When someone's life has been so deeply connected to yours, what do you say when they die?
From my standpoint I only saw the last 20 or so years of my grandpa's life. For nearly half of that time, he fought through an illness that must be incredibly difficult to deal with: alzheimer's. Alzheimer's was something that I saw my grandpa struggle with, almost for as long as I can remember. I knew my grandpa and loved him as a grandchild does, yet I know also that there was so much more to him than I ever saw or knew about. This illness called alzheimer's did not define who he was, it was just something that he had to deal with in the later years of life. Something he and my grandma had to face bravely. It is hard for me to understand because I see it as something so intertwined with him, but really, it was only a fragment of his life. My grandpa had a rich life, full of many experiences and many people....these are the things that made him into who he was and built his character. Alzheimer's was only something in the end, and what is more, I believe that he is free from it all that now that he has passed. I believe his mind has been cleared and he has been restored to the fullest picture of who he is. From what I knew about my grandpa, and from the stories I have heard, I can only string together a little bit of what his life looked like. This is what I saw:
There was a man. A quiet sort of man. He was a hard working man and a hard man. He was a business man, and an outdoorsman. He built things with his hands, crafting toys and swings and all sorts of things. Heck, he built a whole lake cabin up north on Round Lake. Often, he built toys for his grandchildren. He was good at that. He loved to be outside, and to take pictures of nature, especially at the lake cabin. He listened to the birds, watched the eagle's nest through a telescope, picked up agates and polished them. He didn't particularly care for Bill Clinton. He had this wonderful machine called a Tulle Tank. He drove it up and down the road, through the woods, and even into the water. His grandchildren, including me, all loved going for tulle tank rides. And when we were old enough, he taught us how to drive it ourselves.
He was a funny guy when he took off his glasses and wiggled his ears. When he looked at you with raised eyes over the cribbage hand you just dealt him. When he smiled it was with clear blue, twinkling eyes.
He called his wife "BW" and she really was a beautiful wife. She was his strength at the end, but to be honest she probably was his strength as long as he knew her. She took care of him, loyally, lovingly, until the day he passed.
He was a business man with a maroon tie and navy blue sport coat, at least that's what I have heard. He wore black rimmed glasses that I think I can only remember because I've seen so many pictures. For a time he served in the army air force, and was in training when the war ended. He worked hard at various jobs from age fourteen, and eventually he started his own business that he passed on to his sons. He had struggles, too, as any man does. He was a hard man. Sometimes he yelled too much, even at the ones he loved the most. Strange how we do that, isn't it? Sometimes he drank too much I heard, and maybe that was why he yelled. I don't know. I was too young to remember.
Many people liked him and respected him. He had a large circle of friends. He was a loyal friend, he liked to help people. He was organized. In his filing cabinets he had everything in a folder. He even had one that read "People to help." Even though he had struggles, he had goodness too, like any of us do.
He was a good man and had an honest way about him. He was a husband, father, brother, grandfather. So you see, this illness called Alzheimer's did not define who he was, it wasn't a part of him, like all these other things. It was just the unfortunate thing he had to face in the end. And face it he did. When I remember my grandpa, I will choose to remember who he was and what he meant to me. I will remember the things that were true and dear and important, like tulle tank rides and holding his hand. Like eating ice cream and playing cribbage together. Looking through his telescope and riding on the pontoon. I will remember him in the things he gave to me.
He gave to his granddaughter his love and interest in animals and wild things. His love of the outdoors and photographing nature. He also gave to me his hardness, and his stubborness, for good or for bad. He gave to me his loyalty to his friends, his honesty, and his desire to help people.
My grandpa will be with me throughout the rest of my life in the the things he gave to me, in the memories and in the things he loved. His influence will carry on throughout my life. Those things I will hold dear, and in that way, death is not the end.
No comments:
Post a Comment