I was out at the Winnipeg Folk Fest. I was minus a phone. My dad had to call my uncle to get my friend's number, who texted another friend who was with me, to let me know that I should phone home.
I was sitting at the Bird's Hill Beach when I called my dad. He asked how things were going. I told him great. Then he said, "Are you okay right now?" And I knew right then what had happened.
He told me that grandpa had gone outside into the back yard to do some gardening. When he didn't come back in, my grandma went to check on him, and when she saw him lying there, went to the neighbour's to get them to call an ambulance. It was from the earth that he was formed, and to the earth he did return. So it goes.
I will forever be grateful for the people that were with me when I found out. I have the very best friends.
My grandma will have to move into a home. There's no way she can stay in that house. She can't go up and down the stairs, she can't get in and out of the bathtub on her own, she's starting to get a little bit senile. She's deaf as a post.
I've been preparing myself for this for several months now. Ever since my grandpa started having a couple of strokes, I knew this day would come. I've been hoping that, now that my grandpa's dead, my grandma will die soon as well. Sounds terrible, but after being married for 63 years, you get to the point where you can't live without one another. My grandparents are/were stolid, practical Mennonites. Used to the idea of death. Not afraid of it. I'm not afraid for them. I'm afraid what it will do to my mom. Who knows, maybe grandma will adapt nicely to a new environment? (Doubt it. She's a crotchety old woman set in her ways.)
I've been coping fairly well. Using humour a lot. Joked that I was going to tell my grandma that I'd have to miss grandpa's funeral because I was going to go watch Hobo With A Shotgun instead. I've toyed with the idea of telling people that don't know me very well that he died of auto-erotic asphyxiation.
I guess some might see it as callous, but really, I'm saying these things because I'm not devastated by his death. A couple of months to mentally prepare will do that to you, I guess.
The funeral was on Monday. The first words my grandma said to me when I gave her a hug were, "Your grandfather is gone."
It was a fine funeral, I guess. As far as funerals go. Half in German. The pastor leading the service sounded like he didn't really know my grandpa that well, and yet, knew stuff about him that I didn't. His leadership roles in the church. Driving other seniors around for doctor's appointments. So on.
My grandma wanted me to say grace for the meal. I had absolutely nothing prepared when I stepped up to the pulpit. I thanked God for giving me the time with my grandpa that he had. I thanked him for giving me a grandfather that taught me the value of hard work, of patience, and of humility. There were times when I didn't know what I was going to say next, and I had to remind myself that I was allowed to take a few deep breaths to compose myself. Not a dry eye in the house.
My dad said I made him proud. My other grandma said I made her proud. I don't think my grandma whose husband just passed away heard a single word of the service.
Afterwards, we went to the cemetery. His casket was lowered down into a hole that was shored up with a steel box frame to keep the ground from caving in. There was another wooden frame around the casket. No bottom, the casket rested on earth. My dad and I climbed into the grave and laid 2x6's across the top of the wooden frame.
Placing that last plank down, the one that forever covered my grandpa's casket from view, was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. My dad and I stood on that box and cried and cried, and I told him that I loved him.
Who knows what will happen now? I'll miss my grandpa telling me about how the calculator was the downfall of my generation. I'll miss him beating the piss out of me at Anagrams. I'll miss him telling me about pickling, and working at Griffin Steel, I'll miss his shirts, I'll miss seeing a toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth. I'm going to miss his laugh like hell.
He's in a better place now. Guess I'm just being a bit selfish.
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| I love you, grandpa. |
