A month ago today we said goodbye to one of the greatest men I have ever known, my beloved Grandpa.
A part of me struggled with feelings of being left behind, and I felt like this time came way too fast. There was more to be said and done. I felt deep sadness for what could’ve been but wasn’t anymore. And another part of me had peace because he didn’t have to hurt anymore. For over a year, he suffered with dementia. In July of 2016, we knew he was in the final stages of the disease, so it was his time. He was 85, so he lived a long, full life—he outlived his first wife, my grandma, and had children, grandchildren, great grandchildren.
On the day of the funeral, one thing I will always remember was Grandpa’s procession. It was a long procession. The arrangements took place in Alabama, so as the line drove on, the vehicles on the opposite side of the divided highway completely stopped to observe. As we drove on, I silently said to those people, “Thank you. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to stop. Thank you for respecting my Grandpa.” Wow…I was amazed at the fact that no one was too busy to stop and pay respects.
One of my favorite memories of Grandpa was when my husband and I took him out to lunch at Cracker Barrel for Christmas back in 2015. I showed him several books and stories I’d written a couple decades ago. He’d seen them before, but I wanted to see if he’d remember them—he always appreciated my writing. He didn’t remember them, but I think that was mostly due to the dementia. Had circumstances been different, he definitely would have. He’d always had a sharp memory (even when I wished he’d forget certain things—HA!). I enjoyed seeing him pour over my writings that day like it was the first time he’d ever seen them. It made me feel special. He loved reading. His favorite book was the Bible, which he’d read more than once per year when he was alive. That’s over 85 times…WOW!
He was one of the kindest, most honest people I knew. He had this smirk that he’d get when talking to you, one that you could sense the slight sarcasm, but still couldn’t tell if he was being completely serious. He loved my siblings, my cousins, and me. He always made time for us when we would visit. He’d ask for “sugar” (kisses) each time we saw him, and we always made a game of it. He always wanted more sugar, especially from Grandma!
The main thing I remember about Grandpa was the example he was of someone who cared so deeply for others. Whether he knew you for 20 years or 20 minutes, he cared for you. No one had any doubt of his priorities—it was never about him. He was one of the most selfless people I’ve ever known.
So when I have feelings of being left behind, I have to remind myself that the only thing Grandpa left behind was his legacy. When I feel as though I’m overcome by sadness and don’t want to go on, I remind myself that he wouldn’t want that. He’s finally experiencing what his entire life was about. He was 85. He lived a long, full life. It was his time, and it would be selfish to wish him back on this earth when he has now experienced Heaven. When he was sick, a part of me thought “maybe he’ll get better.” No…dementia is terminal. It was his time. The longer he stayed on this earth, the longer he would suffer. He didn’t deserve that. He’s now where he needs to be, where Grandma has been for the last almost 10 years. How exciting for him! When I think about the situation (which is quite often), I’m overcome with peace. Yes, this is how it needs to be. Loose ends have been tied. Yes, we’ll have to step through the sorrow every now and again. We can’t go see Grandpa anymore. We can’t tell him our stories or listen to his. But he’s certainly enjoying himself now, and we will see him again someday!