I had a few topics spinning around in my head for a blog post today, but then last night my Mom called to tell me my Grandfather had passed away a couple of hours prior. His deteriorating health made this less of a surprise, but still incredibly sad. I take comfort that he passed in peace at home with his family there with him.
so...
Today's post will be dedicated to Grandpa.
There are a few qualities that come to mind when I think of my Grandpa, but one thing stands out the most. He was strong. I mean, he was a big solid guy. A farmer. A craftsman. He had huge rough hands that showed the years of hard physical work. But to me, those were the hands that picked me up with every hug, that gently but quickly pulled the loose tooth, the ones that held me on his lap while waiters sang him Happy Birthday (at my insistence) even though I'm pretty sure he would have rather snuck out the back door.
Lots of my favorite memories of my Grandpa involve the farm. Every time we came to visit I think the first thing my brother and I did was to run out to the chicken coop to see the chickens and over to the barn to check out if any cows were there. Grandpa always involved us in the chores. We fed the chickens and gathered eggs. I recall him reluctantly agreeing to let a preschool aged Sara carry the eggs back to the house, which I of course promptly dropped on the walk back.
In addition to his full time job in a factory-Grandpa ran a slaughterhouse (the eventual fate for all those chickens and cows) All this exposure may very well have (almost certainly) been the start of my road to vegetarianism. But, I will tell you...you will NEVER laugh so hard as to witness an actual chicken with it's head cut off.
And of course, I think one of the highlights of the summer was always riding in Grandpa's pickup truck. We're talking riding in the bed of the truck across the countryside with the wind in our hair (yes, I know modern parents will clutch their pearls and gasp in horror!) Oh, what a glorious feeling it was.
I know his health these last several years was precarious, and it's been hard to watch. I am thankful everyday for the time I've had with him. I'm thankful that he was here to meet my children, and am thankful now that I can tuck them in at night knowing that he's watching over them. But, the Grandpa I will remember is the strong burly one. The one who raised the Thanksgiving turkey himself. The one who loved good wine and food (okay, that last one is subjective-he did have a taste for some
disgusting odd things.) The one who, no matter how rough and gruff he seemed, had the softest, kindest heart.
I'm so happy you are at peace, Grandpa. I will miss you terribly. Be good.