One year ago today. That is when we lost my grandpa. I remember the phone call I got in the afternoon from my mom. I remember feeling numb but at the same time trying to sort out everything at school so I could be with my family. I remember the drive to the hospice house, and the sound of the drowned out music playing in the background of all the thoughts and memories rushing through my head as I finally pulled into the parking lot. And then I saw him and said my last goodbyes.
After months of inactivity and not really feeling like myself, I decided that is not how I wanted to honor my grandpa's life. I know he would want me to continue to do the things I love and get out there and experience my life. He always encouraged me to be curious, imaginative, and pursue my dreams. So I grabbed the control back on my life. I have stayed busy and have had many enjoyable experiences over the year as well as some rather stressful ones. I have been going non-stop. This week has been a busy yet successful one and I have felt really good, which again concerned me that I wasn't feeling any grief. But like I said, it is different for everyone and my way of processing things is to just keep moving forward. I typically try not to let my emotions get the best of me and have a hard time letting myself cry in front of other people. I think that is why when I was alone in my car, everything unleashed.
I cry tears of sadness because I miss him. I cry tears of anger because Alzheimer's isn't fair. I cry tears of happiness thinking about all of the wonderful memories I have with my grandpa. I cry because whether I want to admit it or not... I am vulnerable. And with this vulnerability, I would like to share the last words I gave to my grandpa.
"I was raised in a single parent household which meant the best news in the world: I always got to go to my grandparent’s house. It was there that I got to experience the absolute best pastime in the world... time with Grandpa. My grandpa was without a doubt the closest I ever got to having a dad, but obviously with added extra of getting spoiled. He was definitely my “go to guy” for anything I ever wanted whether it was a trip to Dairy Queen and the Dollar Tree, a ride on his shoulders while we set out for a quest to find all the mirrors Grandma had in the house. We would take walks to Richard's pond and skip rocks, or race from the yard to the house, and he would even play the perfect zookeeper as I pretended to be a rather feisty boa constrictor. He taught me how to drive on the tractor and then later dared to sit in the passenger seat as I took the old Buick out for a spin. I know he looked forward for the County Fair so he could sample every single trial of my 4H baking projects. He put on my corsage at my first prom and danced with me on my wedding day... to Frank Sinatra of course. But what I remember and loved most about my Grandpa were his stories.
I could always count on him to tell the most captivating tales that were way better than any bedtime story read from a book. Any time I was lucky enough to spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa's I would always ask for a story from Grandpa before going to bed. His stories were so vivid you could close your eyes and be a part of them yourself. There were stories from his childhood during the summer where he and his friends would run the streets of Topeka and play “kick the can” or even lose some swim trunks at the community pool. He would include the times where he cut up in school and played the class clown. And then of course there was the snake in the Porta potty incident. Grandpa’s stories were legend, but none as legendary as his infamous “Lenard Lenard” story. It was the most requested by all the grand-kids and the one I never completely could tell if it was fact or fiction. Sometimes I think he would indulge us because he knew that story got under Grandma’s skin. The mystery behind the “Lenard Lenard” origin is one of the reasons it is my all time favorite.
My Grandpa’s whole life was a unique culmination of everything that made him the most amazing man I am lucky enough to have known. He truly was my best bud from day one. From hours on the tire swing to singing countless renditions of “The Coffee Song” and “Chiquita Banana” in the kitchen, I feel so blessed to have made so many memories to cherish and celebrate his life. "
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