On Thursday night, my great-grandfather on my dad's side passed away. I've received a lot of condolences, but the cool thing is that this isn't the time for condolences. It's the time for celebration. My great-grandfather was not only "great" – he lived 94 years, and, most importantly, he started it all.
He and my great-grandmother started my big, fantastic family.
I wasn't able to go to the funeral, because I couldn't miss that much school. But on Saturday night, when I got back from the basketball game, my parents FaceTimed with me. They were at a huge party at my great uncle's house, and my whole family was there. They passed me around and I got to talk to aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. I hadn't caught up with any of them in so long, and it was nice to talk for even just a minute.
I know it was even more important to everybody else in my family, all the ones who were able to see one another in person.
My great-grandad started that. He and my great-grandmother had eight children, and then they each had children, and I get to be a part of one huge happy mess of people as a result. That makes me very lucky, and it makes him (and my great-grandmother) extremely important. They're the ones who brought us all together in such a unique way, and, without even knowing it at the time, starting us each on paths that never could've been imagined, much less realized, without them.
When I was younger, as young as first or second grade, every time I would walk into my great-grandparents' house, or they would come to my grandparents' house, the first question my great-grandad would ask was, "How's school going?" I would tell him, and he'd say it sounded good, or important, or something else that made me feel special. Then I'd go off and play with my cousins, but before he left he would always say, "Keep working hard in school now, okay?" I've had a lot of motivation from a lot of people, but this week I've thought a lot about that, because he was cheering me on in his own subtle way.
I remember walking through the dairy barn with him, my dad, my brother, and my grandfather when I was 10 or 11. I asked lots of questions about the cows and about milking them, and he told me about all the technology. It sounded so exciting the way he put it.
One of my favorite memories with him is from after his Alzheimer's began to set in. My grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles went out to the nursing home to see him. We took watermelon with us. He was talking about needing to check on the tobacco crop, and a few other things that didn't make much sense. But when my brother walked up, he knew exactly who he was, and he kept saying, "That there is a fine young Cecil boy." It tickled my brother half to death. More than that though, when we cut the watermelon, he was so happy. I've never seen anyone so grateful for some fruit. That gratitude is something that I think can be used to say a lot about my great-grandad's life. He was grateful.
The thing is, everybody in my family has little memories like this. I think that my great-grandad would have really liked to know that everyone is together, reminiscing and enjoying time with one another that they wouldn't ordinarily have. He and my great-grandmother are no doubt close-by watching it all unfold. Because they're the ones that started it all. And for that, we are all extremely grateful.