Grandpa Gordon

My Grandpa Gordon, my Dad’s dad, passed away April 23rd, 2017, one year ago today, and I miss him. I know everyone has Grandparents and that everyone dies, and that I will die one day; I’m simply saying that I miss him.

Finding Out

Strangely, I didn’t find out for a couple weeks; and then, only via a Facebook Messenger note from my cousin. The day he passed away I arrived in Paris, France, to hike the 1,000mi+ Chemin de St. Jacques via Podensis / Camino de Santiago from Le Puy en Velay, France to Finisterre and Muxía, Spain… “the End of the World.” My family made the decision to keep me in the dark, so as to not interfere with my journey. I don’t agree with their decision, but can see their reasoning behind the decision. He was in hospice care at a nursing home after a couple lower extremity amputation procedures following the onset of peripheral artery disease, complications of diabetes. Grandpa passed with my Grandma and uncle at his bedside. Moments before his death, he came out of a coma he had been in for days. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, surveyed the room, and gently left this world.

Looking Back

Grandpa was in a great amount of pain his last weeks on this world. I felt guilty for the relief I felt when I learned he had passed… but he was no longer suffering. He must’ve been in his 40’s when I was born. I remember him as a stern, strong, rugged Nebraska cattleman. However, I remember many times he would crack “Dad jokes” to make me laugh. I knew he loved me, despite his inability to always show it. We moved away from Grandma and Grandpa when I was about 4 years old, so I didn’t really know them as well as my younger cousins did. I might have seen my Grandpa a dozen times from the age of 4 until my early 40’s. But I always knew he loved me, it was a certainty that I just knew.

Our Last Time Together

The last time I saw Grandpa was in May 2016; I was in town for my cousin’s High School graduation. I hadn’t seen Grandpa in a couple years. He was more frail than I had ever seen him; he didn’t recognize me for a few hours, but eventually came to accept that I was who I claimed to be. That weekend my parents and uncle and his wife had made “the discussion” that it was time for my Grandparents to move into an assisted living center for senior citizens. This information wasn’t well received, with Grandpa periodically turning off his hearing aid when he didn’t particularly care for the tone of the conversation. I guess a lot of kids have similar conversations with their parents.

Anyway, one of my favorite moments from that weekend was getting to hold Grandpa’s hand… I hadn’t held it in at least 40 years. We had just visited the assisted living center the family was wanting them to move into. I could tell he was bummed that we insisted that they leave their home. He wandered outside to sit down on a bench and sulk / pout / stew. I sat down next to him, and extolled the merits of the facility, before taking his hand in mine. I told him that I heard and understood he didn’t want to move there, but that we all genuinely felt it was for the best. He tried to remove his hand, but I gently held on to it and amazingly he allowed me to continue holding it. Before it got weird between us, I released his hand, and rubbed his back, telling him it would be okay. I dunno, I just really enjoyed holding his hand, and for a split-second I felt like a kid again. When my parents and Grandma came out, we went to the local café for a Mother’s Day lunch.

Always Good Company

I enjoyed talking to my Grandpa… discussing the weather with him, different household projects he was working on, and the skirt length of female news correspondents on television. A few years ago, I visited my grandparents after while I returned from the Sturgis motorcycle rally in nearby South Dakota. He and Grandma had the city cut down a large apricot tree behind the house that kept dropping apricots in the yard because “folks our age just don’t need that sort of excitement in our lives.” We sat around the kitchen table for hours visiting about everything from local gossip, world politics, our family, and of course, the weather. They both took pleasure at watching the neighbors walk by their house to looked at my Harley Davidson bagger sitting in the driveway.

The Legacy

Anyhoo, I don’t have a lot of memories of Grandpa coming to piano recitals, taking me fishing, watching my ballgames, or stuff like that. But I did get to pour over old photo albums with he and Grandma, I got to hear his version of their love story, different business ventures he had been involved in, and just get to visit with him man to man. I love him, I miss him, and I am thankful for the memories I have of him.

What about you?

Do have fond memories of a grandparent or a loved one that has passed away? How did that person influenced you and your perception of the world?