Not many kids get to experience having a great grandparent around, let alone for the first 17 years of their life. My Great Grandma passed away when I was only 8, but those memories are some of the sweetest to cherish. Great Grandpa, on the other hand, decided to stick around for a few years.
He was the type of guy who would give you the shirt off of his back and all the cash in his wallet if you needed it. He had a heart of gold and used it to serve this country, well into his eighties. He liked to tease and poke fun, and he sometimes did so literally with his cane. He taught me so much about life and love in those 17 years. In his final days, he made it clear that he wanted me around. He even told his doctor that I was the boss and to listen to me.
I held his hand as he took his final breath.
Grief is a strange concept. It’s a very fluid, transparent, tangible emotion. Everybody experiences it differently over the course of their life. No one person has the same grief as the next guy. After losing my Great Grandpa 3 years ago, I experience grief very differently than I did the day he died.
At first, I was very numb. Then I was crushed. The feelings would dissipate for a while, but pick right back up. I still think of him almost every day, but now it’s just the good memories instead of the traumatic ones of his death.
I remember being hysterical when I heard his cancer diagnosis. I was so proud of him for being so tough and positive throughout his radiation treatments. I remember being crushed when we got the phone call saying that he had been taken to the hospital by ambulance because he couldn't breath in the night.
On hot summer days, he would take me up to Jack in the Box for some curly fries and a pop. Sometimes he would take me on a ride down the street on his scooter! I remember having sleepovers with him and Great Grandma and watching him fall asleep on the floor, resting on his bean bag. I remember the first time I took him for a drive in my car, and how he insisted he get out and pump the fuel. I remember playing Mexican Trains with him and my Great Uncle Claude; he was a sore loser.
Today would have been his 89th birthday and it’s been a strange day for me. The memories come flooding in every time I think of him. I remember feeling so proud of my great grandpa for receiving the Distinguished Service Medal from the Governor of Idaho back in 2012. I remember watching him get to meet his great grandson for the first time and the joy in his eyes come back to life each time he held the baby. I remember all of the birthday phone calls from him where he was always the first one to sing the birthday song to me each year.
The familiar ping of heartache comes when the video pops up on my newsfeed from the time he asked me to record a video of him singing You Are My Sunshine to me.
The pain is still there, but it’s a dull ache that seems like it’ll never go away. I feel a peaceful happiness when I think of all of those shining moments. It makes me sad to think that the younger kids in our family won’t have had the same wonderful memories with our great grandparents, but it makes me cherish the memories even more.
I know that’s what my great papa would like.
