Passing Generation

Twenty years ago I lost my paternal grandfather. His wife followed ten years ago. My mom's mom died three years ago next month, and today my last grandparent has slipped away. I suppose I'm at that age where your grandparents tend to pass away, but that doesn't seem to make it any easier.



I hear about him falling down the stairs, him bleeding and his brain slumping down into the cortex and I can't quite wrap my mind around it.

I remember him happy. I remember him sleeping in his chair with an open book in front of him. I remember him singing and dancing about, absolutely loving life. I remember the big hugs and kisses. I remember him walking us out to the car and standing in the driveway until we pulled away, always. I remember the railroad stories and the war stories. I remember him surreptitiously sneaking as much bread and dessert as he could possibly get away with, diabetes notwithstanding. I remember him making warm fires in the basement. I remember him thoughtfully trying to understand my law school papers. I remember him joyfully holding the grand babies. I remember him telling us about his decision to join the church. I remember him figuring out that if each of his five kids had four kids and they each had five kids, he'd have over 100 descendants and be a pretty important person. I remember him trying to talk me into giving him more pancakes the last time we were at IHOP. I remember him sitting for hours listening to me play the piano. I remember him handing out gifts at Christmas. I remember him at the beach, rolling up his pant legs and walking into the ocean, just like General MacArthur. I remember him being so happy.


I remember him talking about grandma and how much he loved her. I remember him kissing her on the day before she died. I remember him learning to cook and cleaning the house so grandma would be happy if she ever happened to drop back in. He wanted to make it to 100, but he didn't like to be alone. I remember him standing next to grandma's casket, holding her hand and looking so lost and alone.

I am so sad, but not for Grandpa. He led a full and happy life. Nothing would make him so happy as being with Grandma again will. I am sad for us, the family he leaves behind. I am sad that my children won't get to meet him. I hope they will know him and that I can pass along all the good things that he was to them. Perhaps because I knew and loved him, he is a part of me. Whatever I do, there will always be a part of Grandpa in my heart.