28 May 1923-18 April 2008For the previous three or so weeks before his passing, Grandpa had been ill and in the hospital, but we didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hold out. So with this, we are both happy for his leaving his pain, but also sad, as we are when anyone leaves us. My Grandma, though, especially needs the prayers right now because her health and mental abilities are not doing well and we know Grandpa stayed alive in part to help take care of her.
Some of my memories of Grandpa:
Most recently, I'm glad that I was able to visit my grandparents a year ago Christmas. That was the last I was able to see him in mortality. Prior to that was in 2003 at a family reunion, but I didn't have a lot of one-on-one with him then. At Christmas in 06, I had quite a bit of time with him and heard some wonderful stories about different jobs he had, about how he met my Grandma, and some about my dad growing up as well. He was in the Canadian Air Force at the end of WWII, at the time my father was born. Grandma had to ride the train alone and pregnant across Canada, Prince Edward Island to Alberta, after they got married so she could be with family while he did his last tour. But she loved that ride in spite of any sickness she had. I can only imagine how pretty that would be.
During most of my father's growing up years, he wa a police officer for the city of Calgary, Alberta , but the city wasn't nearly as big at that time. As the city grew though, he said one of the factors toward his leaving the force was when he had to start calling the punks he arrested "sir." But when I saw him that Christmas, he mentioned some problems he had in being promoted to detective based on the prejudiced incompetence of one of his overseers. I think I have the story written down, but I don't remember it off hand. It seems he actually retired after 26 years in the force and was a detective, so I'm not sure how all the stories come into play. I tried to write as many of the stories as I could when I was up there, but didn't really want to be taking dictated notes either, since I wanted to enjoy the time just for what it was, with them.
While I was there, they took me to Waterton, a nearby wilderness park on the border of the US, where the deer roam free. It was beautiful! We did get to see some deer and some even got close enough we could have touched their noses, but my dad's cousin's wife who was with us, advised us not to touch them. So we didn't.
As I was growing up, he and Grandma lived on a large plot of land in Rocky Mtn House, Alberta--on the farm as we called it, though I'm not sure they did much farming. The land was dense with trees , a little marshy, and basically rugged--perfect for 4 wheeling, which I did once at least with an uncle. It was beautiful up there. Did I say that already? There were two houses on that property, with just enough room for a goat cage between them. Grandpa built both of them. He also built a few more houses, including one for his mother. When I was little, it was just the one, log-cabin-type but he built the bigger one when they needed a little more room--Grandma and he needed separate bedrooms and they could finally afford for her to have a nice big kitchen. After they moved into the bigger house, my aunt Denise and her young family moved into the smaller one so they were close when we had reunions. That was nice.
I don't know that I ever had long one-on-one conversations with him when I was little, but I liked being in the room where the grown-ups talked and heard plenty of stories about his hunting exploits with my uncles. Grandpa could tell those stories up with some nice exaggeration, but otherwise he was basically a humble, quiet man. When I could be with him, I enjoyed rubbing his head--he kept the military cut or better-- forever; his head was like a day-old beard--nice and prickly. But he would always ask how I was and he remembered things about me. I knew he loved me a lot.
A few times they came down to Colorado to visit us and I remember how excited we'd be to get up in the morning to find him and Grandma on the hide-a-bed. I'm not sure all of us kids in the bed with them was really good for those springs, but it was a lot of fun anyway.
Some of my favorite memories, though, would again have to be at my recent trip to see them. I could feel how much he loved my Grandma, how he talked about her, how he helped her out, how patient he was in reminding her she'd heard things already--she's lost her short-term memory so you have to tell her things several times and hope she still remembers.
And then this one story he told stuck out too, which has been helpful as I've dealt with some hurtful times. He had hired a man he knew well, an old friend, to do some labor in his house and the man had done a really shoddy job and Grandpa'd had to hire someone else to fix it. It sounded like an aggravating situation, but Grandpa said he held absolutely no animosity for him. He wouldn't hire him to do another job, but he felt no bad feelings for him.
I'm grateful for the example and the love of this great man in my life and thankful to my Heavenly Father that I was able to spend the nice week with him last Christmas. What a great blessing.
Last Saturday, my roommate and I were babysitting a couple little boys--one little who can't speak and the other about 4 or 5. To help the older one find something he could do, I was looking in a bin I have for some coloring books or something and I happened to have one of Grandpa's pull-toys in the bin. He's been carving nice simple wood toys for the past several years, giving many to his great grandchildren and to a place that gives them to children in Africa, I think. I had a nice little tour of his woodshop when I was up there, too, and he talked to me about it for awhile. I even helped to draw in the eyes and noses on some of his recent creations.
Anyway, the little boy asked what it was and so I let him play with it and told him my Grandpa made it. He asked when he would make another one. I said he was dying so he probably wouldn't make any more. His cute simple response was that Jesus died and he came alive again so everyone could be happy--something like that. It was a sweet reminder. When Grandpa is alive again, he can make some more pull-toys! :) And I'll get to spend some more quality time with him when he's in a better physical state. It was nice for that little emotional release at that time since I hadn't talked about it much with friends or anything. Such blessings from the young and innocent as well as from the old. Yes, we need people in all the ages of life to help our testimony and to help us in the sojourn on Earth. Such a wise Heavenly Father to make that possible for us.
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