Along with all this turmoil going on inside of me, my grandfather is dying. Like, as I type this. He will probably be gone this week. He's had a long, fulfilling life and is surrounded by people that love him.
I'm so grateful that he chose to move up from California to be with us before he passes. Prior to that, we only got to see him once a year, at best.
I wanted to take some time to write about some of the things I remember about my grandpa (and grandma - which details about her get sorta complicated).
I am the youngest of five children, and although I don't remember if the others spent time with my grandparents over the summer, I do remember that I was there. I don't know how many summers I spent in Fortuna, California...but there were several. I remember that the summers were hot, but not super hot. We played with neighbor kids. There was a run-down mobile home next door, and I'd swear it had green on it. But I could be wrong.*
One summer I remember, in particular, I was staying with my grandparents for an extended period of time, and it was the year that Michael Jackson's
Thriller album was debuting. I just knew they weren't going to approve, and whether they approved or not, they took me to a store in which I was able to buy that very album. I was so happy. Such warm memories of that year.
Another thing I remember about spending time with my grandparents was that Sunday mornings were a huge deal. We'd have to wake up early to get ready for church. Gospel music was playing while grandma walked about in her slip while ironing everyone's clothes and getting everyone ready to go. I remember sleeping in the extra bedroom...grandma's sewing room. It was a very small room, and very cramped with everything stuffed into that room including the bed we slept on. Although cramped, there are warm memories surrounding that room, and the sewing grandma used to do.
Another thing I remember is that grandpa used to freak us out by popping his false teeth out at us periodically. He thought that was so funny...and we'd just freak out every time he did it.
They always had white Melmac dishes. Meals were a big deal in my grandparents home. Not only did they have their own garden and fruit trees, so we'd have fresh vegetables and fruit for every meal, but grandma made homemade bread....ohhhh...that smell.... Anyway, back to the dishes. I remember I'd always have to help clean up and wash the dishes. Grandma made us use bleach in the dishwater. Ick.
My mom just called, as I'm typing this....grandpa's gone. He passed sometime this morning. I'm actually thankful because that means he's no longer in pain.It's much later in the evening, as I'm finishing this post. I'm doing fine. My family is doing fine. It was inevitable, but somehow that doesn't make it much easier. It's so hard to imagine that last week we were having dinner at a restaurant with grandpa, right after he was walking up and down the sidewalk, getting some exercise.
At any rate, one more thing I thought of today that I remember about grandpa was that he loved seeing his family. His eyes would light up every time he got to see any of us kids (even as adults). Getting to see him over the last month, it makes me delighted to know that he was surrounded by the people that brought him the most joy. Amen.
*I have a sucky memory.
