My Act of Remembrance

Today, January 16, 2010, my grandpa passed away. It was expected as his health had been failing over the course of a few months. And yet, when I got the phone call this morning, I cried. The tears didn’t last long, but they still hurt and my heart knows that this is for the best, but it still cries. I love my grandpa. He was a wonderful and dedicated man, to his family, his country and to the gospel.

Growing up, I would spend many a weekend at my grandparents house and when we went to Grandma and Grandpa’s, it meant several things: staying up later, eating sugared cereal (which was strictly forbidden at home) and for me, going out to the base to ride horses because Grandpa knew long before I did that there would never be a pony waiting for me under the Christmas tree. I have so many wonderful memories of going up there- of going over to the Diggnin’s house to marvel at their fat cat Max; playing the Mother Goose game on the computer; watching the fish in the fish tank for hours because there were so many; listening to old time country music with Grandpa wherever we went; going out to Denny’s, Home Town Buffet, Spunky Steers or that one Mexican restaurant, all of which knew my grandpa by name; opening any door of the house to find a fully-loaded riffle in the crack; watching Grandpa take care of the fruit trees; playing down in the bamboo by the creek. This was a large part of my childhood.

I learned a lot from my Grandpa. He was a selfless man, always helping Grandma wherever they went with whatever she needed, even if he uttered a few swear words in the process. He loved little children and little children loved him, a Christ-like attribute that my grandpa easily possessed. Whenever we went somewhere, the question, ‘where’s Grandpa?’ would inevitably come up and when we would look behind to see if we could spot him, he was almost always talking with a little child who had caught his attention. They loved him and he loved them.

My Grandpa was the first to call me Kris, a nickname that has stuck; some people only know me by Kris. He also called me Grand-dolly, with that southern twang of his, and it was rare that my full name was ever used. Grandpa always had his camera wherever we went. And of course, we all dreaded it. Any family gathering, any restaurant we ate at, any thing- there was Grandpa and his camera, taking candid or more often times forced pictures. I love those pictures now. I’m grateful for his dedication to the camera- without that, I wouldn’t have some of my favourite pictures of my childhood. Grandpa also had a lot of random sayings that most of the time, I never understood. "Even blind hog finds an acorn every now and then" was one of his favourites. He was full of so many things to say and listening to Grandpa was always a treat, even if it was usually over my head.

I love my Grandpa dearly. He was my only grandpa and I was blessed to know him, to love him, to be loved by him and to know that this isn’t the end- I will see Grandpa again, I will hug him and kiss his cheek and he will call me Kris or Grand-dolly again. I know he is happy, I know he is whole and I know that he is waiting for me. I love my Grandpa.