Death of a Grandfather

My Grandfather died two weeks ago yesterday.

It still feels like a piece of fiction to say those words.

My Dad is an only child, and his parents both died of lung cancer before I was born. So, my family has always been my sister Heather, Mom, Dad, Uncle R.J., and my maternal grandparents. There were eight of us during Christmas or occasional other holidays. No more no less. No discussions over whose house we would spend which holidays at. No question over who the ultimate venerable head of the family was. The individual roles have always been fairly simple and straightforward and now one us is... missing.

My uncle refered to my granfather as "The captain of our family ship" during the eulogy at the momorial service. I have never heard a better description of him. My grandfather lived by the view that the man was the head of the house, the provider, the protector, the leader... He cared deeply for his family and took the best care of us that he could. He rarely showed emotions or affection; he simply gave the resources and time that he had to provide for the needs and then the wants of his children and later grandchildren.

He was a man's man. He liked sports and grumbled abour politics, but he never saw these as making a man. His word was a solemn promise. He took care of his bills and debts first. Only then would he consider the extras. He made decisions and saw them through. Above all else, you knew that he was the sort of man one counted on. For my grandfather, that was a man. He saw dreams and desires as having a place, but they were firmly seperated from the practicalities of the needs that ran life.

It is only now that I begin to fully realize how my grandfather saw people, how he saw me. Once I started growing up, he began to treat me as a man. I never had the faintest idea what was going on. I just remember it being difficuly around him since he primarily asked me about schooling and what choice I was going to make for college. I was a kid in the candy store when it came to looking at degrees and areas of study. I would run from one to the other like a child pressing his nose and grimy hands against the glass display case before running off to drool over the next tempting chocolate display. I was in Heaven... untill I had to pick one and be limited by the consuquences. As long as I was choosing, in a sense I had it all.

My grandfather more than anyone else pressured me with making a choice. I now realize that he was telling me that it was time to grow up, choose, and live my life instead of drooling in fantasy. When I made a choice, his question was "Is this what you want?" I answered yes, and he declared his backing. That was it. No questioning of my decision. No suggesting other alternatives or timings. It was pure respect for another man's choice, and his love for a grandson to back it up. I am talking about a complete acceptance of my choice and a deep feeling of the experience from living his own choices as a man. I have had people support me or try to guide me for various reasons, but my grandather backed me because I was a man and had made my choice. End of story. Nothing wishy washy. No regrets. You didn't go back on your word, even your word to yourself, just because you now were beginning to see the difficulties that resulted from your choice. That was life, and a man stood by his choice and remained accountable to its relsults.

I wish I had realized some of this while he was alive. I wish I could have tried living my life with this knowledge while he could still watch me. Maybe he still can from Heaven. All I know is the man who worked so hard to give the right Christmas gifts year after year has given me one of the greatest gifts I have ever recieved. The importance of standing firm for your values, for your family, for yourself, and the confident support of a man I respected in my ability to do so.

Thank you Papa.