So my grandpa passed away last Wednesday. He was 88 and went in his sleep. He was lucent and for the most part comfortable before he died. I think he was just ready. His way to death was telling of his personality. He was kind and unendingly polite and although he spent his life taking care of others, as he aged and his body became more uncooperative and broken down, he never wanted to be a bother to anyone. By slipping away quietly while he slept, perhaps sub-consciously he thought this would be the easiest way for those left behind.
When your grandpa is 88, you know that death is certainly a very real possibility. And honestly I think you remember this as you kiss them goodbye at the end of afternoon visits. That that may be the last time you see them. In a way its ok. And really, in his case it wasn't a tragedy. He had a good run. But his presence in our lives will be missed, as it goes.
Off and on throughout his decline I have struggled with the fact that I am not the best at keeping in touch. In fact I suck at it. Its nothing to lament, I know. What's done is done and we are who we are. But the guilt remains. I could have seen him more than the few times that I did. I could have relished his stories and extensive knowledge of the world. Learned from his grace and courage. And just seen a little bit more of this quiet man that was easy to smile and laugh and would readily give a hug or handshake with his lovely calloused, world worn hands.
True to his nature, he didn't want a funeral or any sort of to do. So my family remains scattered, left to say goodbye to him each of us on our own. Its weird because to me, grieving is something done together. Weird but still ok.
So I guess the point is that all of those cliches are true. You miss people when they are gone and you always wish you had more time. I will try to remember this and hope that it helps me to make more of an effort to see the people I love.
Grandpa Luttrell was an actual Okie from Muskogee. He was in the Navy and fought in World War II. When he first enlisted, he said that when they would line up, all of the young men looked the same. So he got a giant tattoo that ran the length of his forearm to distinguish him from the other recruits. I am sure in its heyday it was a beautiful sea creature. But with time it became an almost unrecognizable mass of blue ink. And I loved it. When I was a kid I thought my grandpa was so tough because he was the only person I knew who had a tattoo.
My grandpa was the only member of my extended family that I saw on a regular basis when I was growing up. He and my Granny lived in a house that as a child I considered to be a giant monstrous castle. In reality it was a medium sized old tudor house, but it seemed bigger than any other house I had ever seen. We spent Sundays there and you could count on him to be watching football and drinking a Milwaukee's Best. He always obliged when my sister or brother or I asked him for a sip of his beer, which was a simple but cherished gesture since it meant we got a smile and a wink from him. He was the one who took care of my grandmother as she struggled through cancer, and was there for us after she passed away.
He worked hard all of his life and after something like 30 years with the same company, he retired to a small town in Mexico. Although he and I had never corresponded much through letters, I still have a series he wrote me when he was there detailing his little paradise. These were the types of letters you want to get, full of little stories and anecdotes from a person who was truly happy and content. Beautiful words from a quiet man. He spent 10 years in Mexico having the time of his life and only returned to the United States when his health began to decline. He wasn't sick long, but I know it was frustrating to have a body that was giving out.
He was a classy guy and always a gentlemen and I will miss him mostly because they just don't make them like that anymore. So big ups to grandpa. I hope he is in a place more beautiful than his little village in Mexico. XO
No comments:
Post a Comment