Run Tom, Run

Its funny how Kyle's words keep ringing through everything we experience. Some part of it just always seems to perfectly fit whatever moment we find ourselves in. I lost my Grandpa on Wed afternoon. I was sitting in a meeting at work when I received a couple of calls in row from my dad. Knowing that grandpa wasn't doing well, I decided to step out to call him back. When I called I couldn't reach him, so I called mom. Mom told me that grandpa was in his final stages and that Hospice had told them that it would be in the next 24 hours. Mom and Dad told me they were calling to give me one more chance to say something to grandpa. They told me that he could hear and understand me, but wouldn't be able to respond. That gave me pause. I was about to speak to my grandpa, the only grandpa that I have known, for the last time. One last chance to say what I wanted to say, one last chance to tell him how I felt. I could barely say a word. I was thankful for the chance to say something, but when the moment came there was very little that I could get out. I told him I loved him and that he meant the world to me. I heard him groan as he tried to say something, but I just told him I loved him again. About 30 mins later I was on the phone with my sister when I saw Dad's number come through and I knew what the message would be.

That day I got on a plane back home to be with the family. From this point on I don't think I took Kyle's words to heart. I didn't grieve. I didn't want to. I had done enough of that already. I didn't want to say goodbye. I didn't want to think that my grandpa was gone. So, I somehow blocked it. I don't know how, but I did. I didn't let myself cry, I didn't let myself see the loss. I spent my time feeling numb to the events. I would call Beth when I could and lose myself in hearing about her day. I didn't want to talk about mine because that would make me think, make me realize my loss. Last night I was talking to Beth when she was having trouble sleeping and asked me to tell her a story about something. I started to tell her things about grandpa and then just started crying, really allowing myself to for the first time since I got home. This morning I continued the blocking of grief. Dad told me in the morning that Grandma wanted any of the grandkids to speak that wanted to. I hadn't planned on this because originally it was only to be Dad and my aunt that would speak. I didn't know what to say, or how I was going to say it. I decided the best bet at the moment was to go for a run to clear my head.

The run allowed me to pull my thoughts together, but I think the wall that I put up to grief came down as a began to speak. As I stood there in front of grandpa's coffin my voice began to quiver and shake. I prayed for strength, but the tears came freely. Maybe the tears were exactly what I needed most. I hope I was able to speak through the tears and emotions, but here is what I said (or wanted to say):

When I think of grandpa I think of a few things. First was that he was a well dressed man. You would never find grandpa without a nice suit, a crisp shirt, a new sweater on, or ever see his hair out of place. I often wondered wear my love for clothes came from, or especially my ability to go to the mall and drop money on a new shirt or pair of jeans without hesitation. After looking at grandpa's closet and remembering him it didn't take me long to figure that one out. I think on more then one occasion you would find grandma shaking her head as grandpa walked in with yet another bag from Dillard's (grandpa spent 20 years of his retirement working there). The next thing I think of was his quick wit, his smile, laugh, and the twinkle in his eye. More then anything though I think about his wink. Grandpa loved to wink. As a kid I used to think that this was a thing just between grandpa and I, as if he had never winked at anyone in his life but his grandson. I quickly learned this was a joy that many shared with many others. My favorite wink was always following a statement from grandma that grandpa might not have actually agreed with, but didn't want to say. Grandma would make her statement and would always end with, "isn't that right, Joe?" Grandpa would respond, "oh, oh yeah" and then turn to you and wink. But most of all I remember Grandpa for his love. The love that he always should for others and the great love that he held for his family. A friend of mine whom I lost this fall always closed each of his sermons with the same words. Right now those words for me epitomize how Grandpa lived his life. He Loved God, he Embraced Beauty, and he Lived Life to the Fullest.