Just when you start to get too wrapped up in your own existance, life throws a bucket of cold water over your head. As most of my family knows, two of my grandparents passed away this last week. I thought I could use this forum to write about my favorite memories of each of them as a tribute. Feel free to write about your favorite memories too.
Most people know grandma as being a little rough around the edges. Put it this way, she's never one to mince words. If her arm gets tired while she's talking to you on the phone, get ready for a sudden dial tone midst coversation (ask Dad about this). I was telling Dad though, that I think one of the reasons she was fighting so hard to stay alive is that she wanted every opportunity she could get to show people the love and affection she had on the inside. And she really was like this on the inside. Towards the end, her tough exterior was very fragile, and I saw her get emotional very easily as she would share stories about her past, and express her gratitude that we were with her. My favorite memory is the last visit to her hospital room in San Fransisco. The third day, Kari and Dad had left, and it was just Lindsey and I. We managed to arrive about at lunchtime, and we found grandma happily eating her green grapes. Lindsey and I tried to get settled in the room, wanting to make this a good hour or two of quality time. We were being more brave this time, asking more complex questions about her past, much about Dad and Art as kids. I noticed after about 20 minutes she started to get fidgity and uncomfortable, and I thought to myself, "wow, I must have really provoked some deep and emotional memories with my questions." I was a bit suprised though when she suddenly turned to us with quite purpose and said, "Well kids, its time for me to go to bingo, so here, you guys finish off these grapes, and have these Cheese-Its that someone left for me." Before Lindsey and I could think of a touching farewell to say to her, we got hugged and kissed, then she was in her wheelchair and out the door, leaving us in silence with grapes and Cheese-Its in hand. Lindsey and I had one of those moments where we turned to each other with incredulous looks on our faces, and then broke out in gut wrenching laughter. We never for once thought this was rude or mean, its just, Grandma. You have to love that about her.
It's hard to believe that I'm writing about two relatives that have died. Its a very strange twist of fate. It's probably no coincidence that my favorite memory of grandpa is also my last visit. I was visiting Roseburg just before my departure on my gap year and my Dad came and asked if I would take him down to southern Oregon to see grandpa. Of course, my immediate response was being a poophead, and I didn't feel like going. About an hour later though, a voice in my head told me that I needed to go. Thankfully I did, because it was special. We arrived to his house and my first thought was that the house was so fitting for grandpa. It was a perfectly square one story ranch house, from the 50s I believe, with much of the original siding and windows. It fits the image of Grandpa in his brown polyester stretch pants that snuggly hug his butt and thighs, with his white Latin looking cotton collar shirt, always with a concert of retro colored stitchings of swirls and paislies. Of course I have to mention the gigantic steel belt buckles and cowboy boots. As we pulled into the back of the house, I was stunned by how picturesque the landscape was. It was about 4pm and the sun cast so beautifully over his endless green pasture. Grandpa was thrilled to see Dad and I and show us his horses. He invited us inside and offered us a Pepsi. After about an hour of discussing most of Grandpa's ribbons and trophies that adorned every square inch of his living room, we started to make our way back outside. Grandpa suddenly switched gears and started asking me pointed questions about what I was doing in life. I told him briefly about the gap year I was about to take and how I was going alone and quit my job. After saying this, I was expecting to look up to see a disapproving expression on his face. I figured its not something that a true cowboy living in rural Oregon would advocate. When I looked at Grandpa, his face was frozen with an expression of pure intrigue. After about five seconds staring at me, eyes twinkling, he said softly, "I'll be damned. Daniel you have one helluva time on your trip. You'll never forget it." I was totally shocked at his genuine enthusiasm for what I was doing. It is a great memory for me.
