I'm posting about something different today, so feel free to skip this one. It's not about writing craft or community.
If you follow me on Twitter, you may have noticed the last few days I posted that my grandfather is in the hospital. Probably dying. I'm getting updates from my dad, because I live too far away to be there right now, and grandpa is getting worse by the hour now. And the thing that really sucks is that it's not pleasant. He can't breathe, he can't eat, water makes him sick, and he's throwing up. Fluid in his lungs, fluid compressing his heart. Infection, high white cell count. Failing kidneys.
It breaks my heart. Even if I could be there, I don't know that I could stand it.
My grandpa is a good man. He's in his 90s, so yes, it's his time, and I know it, but it doesn't make the pain less. I know he wants to be with grandma again. That doesn't lessen my sorrow much either. Not because I don't believe it, but because of who he is.
So let me tell you a little bit about my grandpa.
When I think of him, I think of pears, and chocolate chip cookies. Family dinners, with so many people that half of us ate in the dining room and half of us ate in the living room.
I think of him and grandma, traveling all over the US in their RV, so they could visit their grandkids as often as possible. When I was a young teenager, I went with them in that RV one summer, from Oregon down to San Francisco, to my oldest cousin's wedding. We got stuck in Boring, Oregon, for a little while and barely made it there in time.
I think of family reunions, and t-shirts with all the bad puns from our last name. We knew them all, used them on our answering machines or shot them back at people who thought they'd come up with a clever new one. I remember one family reunion when I was a freshman, I think. We rented a few (large!) cabins and cooked and camped and went river rafting together. All of us cousins swapped around which cabin we were sleeping, so we could hang out with family members we didn't get to see that often. I felt so close to my cousins, even though we lived far apart and only visited once every 2-3 years. My grandparents did that.
When I think of grandpa, I think of family, first and foremost. He was devoted to his family. There are 24 of us grandkids, and we all got birthday cards. He was there for most of the big occasions - graduations, weddings, baby blessings for some of the great-grandkids. My grandpa is a temple sealer, which means he has the priesthood authority to perform eternal marriage ceremonies in LDS temples. He performed the ceremony when I got married, and married many of my cousins as well.
I'll never forget the way his eyes sparkled with tears as he sealed my husband and I together, for time and all eternity. Love filled the room that day.
When I think of grandpa, I picture him with a big smile on his face, arms outstretched for a hug. White buttoned-down shirt, glasses. Always neat. Always ready with a joke.
I don't remember when, but he started a family tradition of speaking love more often. Whenever we got together, after family prayer (and keep in mind, he had 6 kids, all married, and 24 grandkids, so that's one giant prayer circle), we'd all put our hands in. Like a football team preparing for the big game. Then we'd say "Sure love ya!" and throw our hands up. To this day, whenever someone in my family says those words, it makes me smile and think of grandpa.
I think of nature, and how he loved his garden and the animals that visited. He had an otter in his yard just last week.
I think of how much he loved grandma.
I think of honor and truth, dedication and service. He was a navy man. So dapper in his old uniform pictures.
He's kind and loving. When my grandma joined the church, he drove her to worship meetings twice every Sunday for years, until eventually he joined too. I don't think I've ever heard him speak a harsh word about anyone. Not even in politics. He loves all of his grandchildren so much, even though we haven't all made the same choices he would have wanted for us.
When I think of grandpa, I think of joy.
The reality is that without him, my entire family would be so different. Counting his children, grandchildren, the spouses because he would count them as family-by-love, and great-grandchildren, he has about 100 descendants. All of us would be so different without him and his influence on our lives. And that's why the thought of losing him is so hard for me. Without grandpa, my family as I know it wouldn't exist.
He's the kind of good man whose impact is felt for generations. And I'm so fortunate to be able to call him my grandfather.
Sure love you, Grandpa. And give Grandma a big hug from me.
