My Gramps

Twenty five years ago today, I lost one of the most important people in my life, my Gramps. If you have ever been a student in my class or are one of my inner circle, you know that this was one of the great sadnesses of my life. There is so much joy in my childhood, special memories, stories, stolen moments in time... long gone but never forgotten… and so many of them include this sweet man I simply referred to as my Gramps.

When I was little, my Gramps was big. In hindsight he wasn’t, he was only about 5’5, but in my eyes he was a giant. My father revered this man and I truly believe that my Dad’s love for his father was such a gift to me. Even though my Dad was a successful officer in the Air Force, there was never anyone mightier, anyone more respected, anyone greater who he adored more than his father. When my Dad needed advice, encouragement, wisdom, or simply a sense of balance and clarity, he talked to his Dad. From the moment I can remember, I saw this in my father. I saw his love and admiration and I felt it in all that he did and in the relationship that they shared.

I have so many snapshots frozen in time of my Gramps and I. We called Union City home. This was where my Gramps lived and where we spent time in the summers. If I painted a picture of these snapshots they would include a lot of grease, dirty fingernails, a blue uniform, boston baked beans and coke. My Gramps owned a gas station in the center of town. When we went home, we spent a great deal of time there and my Dad often “worked” helping out at the station. To most this might not seem special but I thought it was wonderful! The smell of gasoline, the grease, the laughter of my Gramps, his best friend Everett, and my Dad, and my Gramps letting me run the cash register...all of these memories a favorite part of my childhood.

I remember when I was about 12. I stayed with my Gramps for 2 weeks while my family traveled across the country getting ready to move to England. Every single day, my Gramps would come home for lunch and he and I would eat hot dogs with mustard and onions, homemade cracklins, and a coke. After lunch he would often take me back to the station with him and I would work the register and he would pay me in boston baked beans and coke or we would go for ice cream after dinner. Those two weeks will forever stick in my heart and my head as amazing.

When my Dad died, my Gramps was crushed. I remember so many moments during that week of looking at this giant and not knowing how to even begin to love him. I had so much pain of my own, but the greatest of all being the complete sadness of my Gramps. The bond he and my father had was immeasurable and when my Dad died, a piece of my Gramps was forever lost. At the memorial at the cemetery I remember the feeling of my Gramps as they did the 21 gun salute, each time the shots went off his body responded as if he himself had been shot. When the KC-135 flew over and tipped its wing, and as you heard it approach, my Gramps shook from head to toe and I knew in those moments that my Gramps and I would forever be bonded by this tragedy. He needed me and I truly needed him.

After my Dad died we spent a great deal of time with my Gramps. My Mom actually moved us to Ohio just to be near him. My Gramps not only loved and adored my Dad but he truly loved my Mom as if she were his own daughter. The way he treated my Mom, the love and affection he showed her, and in turn the adoration she had for him… it was incredibly special and I consider my Mother incredibly lucky to have had this amazing bond with both of my Dad’s parents. My Mom knew how important my Gramps was to us and that we needed him and in turn that he needed us.

When I was little my Gramps called me Skeeter or Skeets and as I grew up he called me Kris or Krissy. To this day, my family and my brother are the only people that call me Kris. I prefer it this way, somehow it seems okay when they call me this, but when anyone else does it bothers me. The Sunday before my Gramps died, I came home from college to visit him. At Christmas time we discovered that my Gramps had cancer. It was very aggressive and so within about two months I was saying my final goodbye. I remember this day like it was simply yesterday. I remember exactly what I wore, I remember the warnings I got that he would not know who I was, and I remember walking into the family room and my Gramps smiling and announcing that his Skeeter was there. I had prepared myself for the sadness of this day and instead this day is truly one of the most joyful memories I have. I sat and held my Gramps’s hand, he rubbed my thumb with his thumb and he kept saying over and over at random times, “I love you Skeets.” I would tell him I loved him and he would smile my favorite cute Gramps grin. I remember my great Aunt Wilmadene asking me who was going to give me away when I got married and feeling Gramps hand stiffen in mine and seeing tears run down his cheek. I assured him that it was okay and that he could sit with Dad and Uncle Jack at the wedding. I talked to Gramps several times that week. His wife Marge would hold the phone to his ear and I would talk and talk and he would listen and occasionally respond or chuckle and Marge would tell me he was smiling. I told him how much I loved him and how much my Dad loved him and how blessed I felt that he was my Gramps. The following Thursday morning I drove home from college after my first class. I left my roomates a note on the wipe erase board that my Gramps was going to die that day and I left. When I arrived home I got a call from my Mom that my Gramps was gone. On this day I lost a piece of my heart.

There are people that forever touch your life, people that forever change who you are and how you feel. My Gramps was one of those people. My Gramps loved me with a fierceness and an adoration that I cannot even put into words. My Gramps and I shared an incredible bond. In each other, we were able to find solace and able to share the joys and sorrows of loving and living without my Dad. My Gramps will forever be one of the greatest loves of my life.