Jan 06 2008
Honoring a Full Life
We were there to honor my grandfather, who died in his sleep in the New Year’s wee hours. The sun hid behind the gray sky and the wind added a chill to the 30-degree temperature.
My brother commented that Granddad would have insisted we all wear hats. Summer or winter, rain or shine, he believed covering the head was the key to comfort. Judging by our chattering teeth, we would have done well to listen.
As it was, though, the funeral home had the foresight to set up a tent with thick canvas walls. We took our seats near the hillside gravesite, taking care not to tumble. My Aunt J’s voice broke as she stood and thanked everyone for coming out in the cold.
(click any image to enlarge)
Warbled by wind, Leann Rimes’ voice floated from a boombox that sat only a few feet from Granddad’s coffin. Her a capella rendition of “Amazing Grace” left few dry eyes.
The preacher was effective and efficient. Wearing only one glove, he used his unprotected hand to flip to Granddad’s favorite scripture — the 23rd Psalm. Unbeknownst to me, Granddad had recited it each night before going to sleep.
The funeral director leaned over and handed a meticulously folded American Flag to my mother. “On behalf of the President of the United States, I present you this flag in honor of your father’s service to his country,” he said. Mom accepted the flag and then shook as she cried.
Shannon and I took one last look at the casket before weaving our way down the hill of headstones.
The night before, at the viewing, one minute we all laughed as we exchanged stories about Granddad. The next we struggled to utter full sentences around stifled sobs. As my brother, Charles, stood next to me in the viewing room, he said, “He was just so…” and his shaky voice trailed off.
“Gentle,” I said.
Charles nodded. “That’s exactly what he was.”
During limo rides to and from the graveside service, we shared more fond memories, with only a few somber silences.
One of Granddad’s nephews sat next to Shannon and me in the car. My first time to meet him, it was a rare chance not just to hear familiar stories from another vantage, but also to learn more about my ancestry. I rattled off question after question, sounding almost like I was conducting an interview.
In a way I was reliving the days Granddad took me and my brother aside for quiet talks, and making up for those times that, for reasons I can’t recall now, he did not. My only regret was that I hadn’t brought my voice recorder.
History wasn’t the only topic we covered as the limo took us over the I-430 bridge, majestic Pinnacle Mountain looming in the distance.
“You know, he told me his one wish was that he could live long enough to see Hillary elected president,” Charles said. Granddad had written the same to me.
Even with the wide variety of political opinions held in that limo — some quite passionate, nobody said, “Wouldn’t that be great,” or “God forbid.” We had too much respect for Granddad to let the conversation devolve into a political debate.
Instead, just as we did both days we were together, we honored him by enjoying each other’s company. In part inspired by his example, we’re pretty good at it.
I last saw him on Thanksgiving, because he didn’t make the trip to my parents’ house for Christmas. It didn’t help that following the latter we opted to head on home without going only a few miles out of our way to see him. Despite Shannon’s and others’ advice not to, I regret that, and probably always will.
My most difficult moment came a few hours after the service, when several of us converged at Granddad’s retirement apartment to check for things of sentimental value. When I walked into his bedroom, the scents took me nearly 500 miles away to the home he had left about a year prior. More than pictures and sounds, the smell brought more than 30 years of memories flooding over me. I made my way to the living room and tried to focus on something besides the long couch I had sat on so many Sunday afternoons watching golf Granddad had recorded on his VCR.
I grabbed the atomic clock from the top of the TV stand. “Does anybody have their heart set on this?” I asked.
We left with the clock and a few other items. The one thing that held the most meaning for me? Granddad’s old manual typewriter, which he used to write his book and innumerable letters to friends and family.
Granddad has a rich and interesting history, highlighted by his 50-plus year marriage to my equally amazing late grandmother, and laziness never found purchase in his life. Although I may post a detail or two about him in the future, I’ll leave the synopsis of his life up to his autobiographical obituary, still available online.
We already miss you, Granddad.
What a loving and wonderful tribute to a particularly amazing person. I’m sitting here with tears splatting on my touchpad. Don’t be too hard on yourself about not seeing him one last time. We all have regrets like this. There’s no way of knowing… Next time, you’ll go with your gut.
How very cool that you have his typewriter :-)
Hugs for you, Buddy.
I think this is a lovely way to say goodbye, and I hope it has helped bring you close to him one last time.
What a wonderful tribute to such a sweet man.
My heart goes out to you, Charles, Shan and the rest of your family.
Your words brought back tears to my eyes as I remembered my own dad’s passing just a scant 2 years ago. Remembering the playing of Taps by the military people, the folding of the flag, and Amazing Grace…. just drags the tears from your eyes.
My very best.
I find it particulalry fitting that you wished for hats. I can only imagine that would have made him smile.
I read his obituary and am truly astounded at all he did. A very full life indeed.
I had similar regrets when I decided not to attend my great uncle’s funeral several years ago. He was my paternal grandpa’s brother and even though the funeral was local, I thought that they were just for the living and I could honour him by myself. I didn’t realise that funerals *ARE* for the living for a reason, as an outlet to say goodbye and commiserate with other family and share memories. All the sorts of things you guys did for your own grandfather, which I regret not doing now.
He does indeed sound like a wonderful man who lived a full, rich life. It’s so great to see him pictured there with Ben. If there’s one thing grandparents love to see above all things, it’s their great-grandkids.
Thanks to all of you who commented here and on the earlier post. He was the first close relative I’ve lost since becoming a parent, and I see funerals in a new light now.
We shouldn’t knock ourselves too hard for our past regrets regarding funerals. Let’s just do better in the future.
Great! Mark thanks for posting the pics and your thoughts your mother really enjoyed it.
Markus…what a great entry! I think the fact that it is so balanced with reverence, humor, tribute, and a general overview, makes it very similar to his life.
The one thing that hasn’t really been captured that well is what he meant to his community. I know you touched on it briefly in your previous blog, but there are so many things that he supported and was active in, that we aren’t even aware of half of them. There were certain things for which he seemed happy to receive recognition, but then other times he seemed to be almost uncomfortable with it. I never really fully understood that about him, but I’m sure he had his reasons.
I remember when you and I were sitting at the National JUCO B-ball tournament with him and he said, “You know Grace used to sing the National Anthem every year.” We both looked at each other with that WHAAT??? look. He also used to work on all sorts of organizational tasks for the tournament in his younger years as well.
But you know…that summed it up right there. There we were, sitting on one of the last few rows, behind the backboard, happy as could be. He could have affored mid courtside seats, and for all of his years of service, he probably could have gotten them for free just by asking. That simply was not his style. He wanted to support the event in every way, and that included buying tickets for every day, even though he only came for 1.
I remember at the time his book was published, I couldn’t wait to read about all of the stories we heard as kids. Then I read it, and realized that I’d only heard a few that were in the book. I just wish he would have had more than one vocal chord so that we could have heard more.
How cool is it that he wrote a book, and it will be able to be enjoyed by generation after generation of our family? I guess at the time I didn’t even think of that, but now it makes me want to suggest it from all of our relatives so that we have some great memories that will live on forever.
Hey Mark! Thanks for the comment! I have to tell you that it has been hard here….mainly because I am not out walking like I did in London. We walked everywhere!
Stay cool there! Hehehe.