Last Saturday my grandfather passed away. Upon hearing (a few days before) that this event was imminent, I felt like I should sit down and write something somewhat lighthearted so that the family could focus for a few moments on all the things we will remember about him. A day or so later my cousin, Eric, with some assistance from his editor (a.k.a. his wife, Katherine), posted a very eloquent, PG-rated piece describing some of my grandfather’s eccentric behaviors and sharing a few of the stories most remembered by the grandchildren. You can check that out here. As soon as I read it I thought, “That’s perfect. I have nothing to add to this.” So I didn’t write.
After arriving in Ohio on Sunday evening the urge to write returned and was cultivated through the services and conversations during the hours that followed. I was struck deeply by the legacy of my grandfather and grandmother and how they lived it out in front of us daily for decades. My grandfather was very quiet and always busy. Not too busy or shy to talk to you or help his fellow man, but he had an incredible work ethic. With the exception of the last couple of years when Alzheimer’s had stolen most of his personality from him, he was always doing something. I cannot remember seeing him sit down for an extended period of time to watch TV, rest or just waste time doing something trivial. Everything he did had a purpose and he was on the go from the time his feet hit the floor until he went to bed at night. I also don’t remember him complaining about anything. He just seemed to be able to roll with it, fix it or just be unaffected by it and took care of his business.
It was also a very moving experience to participate in unfolding and draping the American flag over his coffin as the services ended. What an honor it was to honor his service. I have no idea what kind of soldier he was or what the circumstances were that resulted in his serving during WW II, but I was so proud of him in that moment and proud to be included in his lineage.
I shared a few meaningful moments with my grandmother this weekend as well. The first was Sunday evening as we were leaving to go to our hotel. Despite being just one day removed from losing her husband of more than 50 years and all that she must have been thinking about in anticipation of services the next day, she insisted on taking communion before she went to bed. There was no pomp and circumstance or panoramic paintings of the last supper that floated down from the heavens, but she did it. She remembered her Savior, her comforter and the reason she has had hope for her entire life. Hope in an eternal future, not in a failing body that is temporarily subjected to a fallen world.
She demonstrated this to me again during my grandfather’s service. I had the privilege of escorting her to the front of the chapel and sitting with her during the service. We sang a few hymns. I held the hymnal between us so she could see the words; she didn’t need the hymnal. Despite her own health issues, age and sometimes faulty memory she sang every word to every verse, from memory. She also sang along with the special music that was performed by the Associate Pastor at her church. She didn’t care that it was supposed to be a solo, a time of quiet reflection. She sang and I think found comfort in being able to offer praise to her Heavenly Father in the midst her pain. I just can’t describe how this affected me.
As everyone was filing out of the chapel, my grandmother stopped for a few final moments with my grandfather. She was still in love with him. She didn’t just tolerate him or learn to live with him as a friend. She was in love with him. After all the years of marriage and parenting and joys and challenges, she caressed his hands and face as though they were newlyweds. It was awesome and awful at the same time. What an amazing demonstration of commitment and hard work in a marriage; how crushing it must be to lose the partner that has been right next to you for a half century.
I was in Ohio for about 36 hours. An incredible range of emotion and reflection was compacted into that time. I’m still processing some of it, but one thing is for sure: God has blessed me with an incredible heritage and a great responsibility and opportunity to pass it on.
We’ll miss you Grandpa. Your great-grandchildren will know about you. More importantly, they will know your Savior and, one day, receive Him as their own.
After arriving in Ohio on Sunday evening the urge to write returned and was cultivated through the services and conversations during the hours that followed. I was struck deeply by the legacy of my grandfather and grandmother and how they lived it out in front of us daily for decades. My grandfather was very quiet and always busy. Not too busy or shy to talk to you or help his fellow man, but he had an incredible work ethic. With the exception of the last couple of years when Alzheimer’s had stolen most of his personality from him, he was always doing something. I cannot remember seeing him sit down for an extended period of time to watch TV, rest or just waste time doing something trivial. Everything he did had a purpose and he was on the go from the time his feet hit the floor until he went to bed at night. I also don’t remember him complaining about anything. He just seemed to be able to roll with it, fix it or just be unaffected by it and took care of his business.
It was also a very moving experience to participate in unfolding and draping the American flag over his coffin as the services ended. What an honor it was to honor his service. I have no idea what kind of soldier he was or what the circumstances were that resulted in his serving during WW II, but I was so proud of him in that moment and proud to be included in his lineage.
I shared a few meaningful moments with my grandmother this weekend as well. The first was Sunday evening as we were leaving to go to our hotel. Despite being just one day removed from losing her husband of more than 50 years and all that she must have been thinking about in anticipation of services the next day, she insisted on taking communion before she went to bed. There was no pomp and circumstance or panoramic paintings of the last supper that floated down from the heavens, but she did it. She remembered her Savior, her comforter and the reason she has had hope for her entire life. Hope in an eternal future, not in a failing body that is temporarily subjected to a fallen world.
She demonstrated this to me again during my grandfather’s service. I had the privilege of escorting her to the front of the chapel and sitting with her during the service. We sang a few hymns. I held the hymnal between us so she could see the words; she didn’t need the hymnal. Despite her own health issues, age and sometimes faulty memory she sang every word to every verse, from memory. She also sang along with the special music that was performed by the Associate Pastor at her church. She didn’t care that it was supposed to be a solo, a time of quiet reflection. She sang and I think found comfort in being able to offer praise to her Heavenly Father in the midst her pain. I just can’t describe how this affected me.
As everyone was filing out of the chapel, my grandmother stopped for a few final moments with my grandfather. She was still in love with him. She didn’t just tolerate him or learn to live with him as a friend. She was in love with him. After all the years of marriage and parenting and joys and challenges, she caressed his hands and face as though they were newlyweds. It was awesome and awful at the same time. What an amazing demonstration of commitment and hard work in a marriage; how crushing it must be to lose the partner that has been right next to you for a half century.
I was in Ohio for about 36 hours. An incredible range of emotion and reflection was compacted into that time. I’m still processing some of it, but one thing is for sure: God has blessed me with an incredible heritage and a great responsibility and opportunity to pass it on.
We’ll miss you Grandpa. Your great-grandchildren will know about you. More importantly, they will know your Savior and, one day, receive Him as their own.
