Thoughts on a Girl and Her Great Grandpa


The bottom portion I originally posted in April of 2012.  (You can read that original here.)

The memory has been bright in my mind the past few days, as my grandpa’s health deteriorated and I sat by my phone and waited for the news.

I keep thinking, “this is not a tragedy. Still, I cry.”

Tomorrow, I will send my girls off to their first day of school.  It’s a big year, starting sixth, fourth, second and kindergarten.
Then alone in the house but for my tiny three legged dog, I will clean and pack and cry.  I will look for more pictures. I will think about what a reunion in Heaven looks like.

I will drive out to Richmond, Indiana, the small town that seems to be the main destination of my life. I will cry with my mom, with my sister, brothers, dad, cousins, the whole Homer bunch.  We will also tell corny jokes and eat good food.

But tonight, his passing still fresh and not quite sunken in all the way, I will lie in the darkness and bask in the bright memory of that afternoon in the sunshine when a little girl ran to her great grandpa, and a mom silently watching, took note.

I can see him sitting comfortably in a folding chair in the shade of my newly leafed tree.  His dignified white hair distinctive from my view out the sliding glass doors.  Looking at him is like looking down the bright path of my memory, into the happiest scenes of my childhood.

I can see her running across the grass toward him, her wild and carefree hair a delightful mess of peanut butter, sand, and good Nebraska wind and sunshine.  Her shirt is a hand me down from cousin Jill, her pants from a family at church, her socks a gift from Grandma last Christmas.  Looking at her is like looking onto the bright path of my future, into what will be the happiest scenes of being a parent.

She smiles up at him, asking a question.  He pats his knee, extending the invitation.  She steps closer, accepting.  He holds out his hands, she reaches up her arms.  One swift motion and she is sitting close, snug and cozy and in that microcosm, every single thing is perfect.  The part of me that stores my childhood is envious, but the rest of me is so glad she gets to know Grandpa too.

He will talk about names and places, people she will never meet and sights she will never see.  She listens with her ears, but she understands with her soul, and she begins to know who she is, to realize what family means.



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