Grandpa
Stewart
My favorite
memories of my grandpa are recent, after he hovered on death's door.
If he told you about his near-death experience this summer, he would
have said that I saved his life. I promise I did nothing more than
schedule him a doctors appointment. However, after his heart was
literally zapped back into rhythm, he approached life differently.
Suddenly it didn't matter how loud we were laughing in a restaurant,
how much dirt we tracked into the cabin, if we ate cookies in the
living room, or if we took over his garage with motorcycles. What
mattered was his family, and the precious moments he had left with
them. At any random moment he could be found attempting to hand his
grand kids a twenty or take us out for a bite. He actually tried to
pay me after I took him to the emergency room, ever afraid of being a
burden.
There are things
about my grandpa that I will never forget. According to him, his
grand kids were going to rule the world someday, just like their
mother was already doing. Growing up, us Brittan kids got called the
wrong name by grandpa so many times it's a wonder we don't suffer
from identity crisis. On the other hand, what better compliment than
to be mistaken for “Kathy” every time grandpa visited? If you
ever met his dog, Sandy, she was his baby. She had a chair in the
house that no one dared sit in, and a special place on his bed and in
his heart. She temporarily replaced the void of my grandma who is
ten years passed, the void that will now be forever satisfied.
Grandpa enjoyed
hitting a tennis racket well into his eighties and had a sweet tooth
or two in that golden smile of his. Probably one of his more
well-known attributes was his ability to tell awkward jokes at the
most random of times. Often we would laugh not at the joke itself,
but at the absurd moment of its delivery. Family dinners will never
quite be the same.
However, there is
one family meal that rises above the rest. Grandpa insisted on
taking his family out to dinner, his treat. He chose Pizza Hut, one
of his favorites, and somehow all six Brittans found a free night a
few months ago to spend together with grandpa. At dinner, I noticed
he didn't say much, but rather reveled in his surroundings. He was
engulfed in his legacy. They were laughing, eating, and enjoying one
another all around him. He was proud, and he was thankful.
After that, for the
next couple of months he could be seen muttering to himself, that was
when he was talking to his Jesus. He started praying ceaselessly,
and thanking his father for every little thing. At the end, in the
hospital and later in Hospice, not a complaint could be heard. He
could be found flirting with the nurses while he was flirting death
itself.
But the truth
remains that I believe my grandpa was never happier than when he was
dying. It took a life-threatening experience for him to declare
everything in life a blessing. He started giving radically,
realizing the fleeting value of material things this side of glory.
His glass went from half empty to perpetually half full. As I sit
down, far from home, to write this, I can't help but realize what a
valuable lesson he has left behind.
My grandpa wouldn't
want a fuss over him, he never did. He would want you to live, and
live to the fullest. Abandon the dirt covered floor and crowded
garage. Forget the loud laughter in public, and eat cookies in the
living room. Live for the things that will last, the things you can
reap the befits of when your short life here is over. Above all,
consider it all joy...and it never hurts to add a tasteful joke or
two.
Read at my grandfather's funeral 9.21.12
XXOO, from a little darling far from home
No comments:
Post a Comment