The date of my very last blog post in October, was when I found out Nancy had cancer. We lost her 23 days ago. We lost my grandpa last night.
Where do I begin? Sadly, this has been playing in my head off and on for the past few years. What would I say? Where would I be? But since we all know that life happens so unexpectedly, I have been slowly preparing myself for the moment that I would have to say goodbye to the most influential man in my life.
I've been reflecting on the life of his that he shared with me. From pictures at the hospital as I, his firstborn grandchild, came into this world. I was dropped off there almost every morning as my mom and dad worked hard for our young family. There, grandpa , you would lay me on my pink blanket and film me for hours upon hours. Sleeping, staring, giggling. As I got older, I have vivid memories of playing in the back yard, in the plastic pool or running through the sprinkles with you. When you built the deck, I loved the mound of dirt behind it. I still don't know why you let me dig out there in my cute ruffly underwear!
I have one, just one tragic memory of that backyard. You and I were playing catch and you told me to hold on. You said that you had to go to the bathroom, and to play outside. I ignored you and chased you inside anyways. My shoe got caught in the door runner and i flew into the corner of the coffee table and cut my head open. I remember you and grandma holding me, cleaning my head, waiting for my mom to come so we could go to the hospital. It all turned out okay. I got pizza and a care bear movie.
Your alarm clock went off so early when you were working at the post office. Grandma would nudge me ever so slightly, and in turn I used all of my might to kick you out of the bed. I always thought I would hurt you, but miraculously, you avoided that nightstand every time. I might have to think that you heard the alarm clock and were waiting for me...! You were so sneaky.
Speaking of sneaky, I remember your magic tricks. We would play the hide the shoes game. Line them all up at the base of grandmas chair, and I would have to close my eyes so the "elves" had time to come in and get them. Little did I know, you hid them in the hall closet, every time! I believed you. Why wouldn't I? You were my hero and my best friend. You also always said (with your hand on your heart) "ah! me? would I lie to you!?" Well no, Grandpa. You aren't capable. You loved me too much!
I have many memories with you and grandma, as she got sick. We had our trips to the beaches, to collect sand crabs, our trips to subway, drives up the coast to Ojai, clam chowder, saltines and some ice cubes, and don't forget the sprite in the garage! I loved going in the garage to smell the Snuggle fabric softner, and look at all of my cool tools that you had put in bandaid boxes for me so that I could be a helper, too.
In the mornings, we would make grandma her "fakin bacon", potatoes and the egg beaters. This is when I learned "commin atcha kid!" As we brought our food on a tray to grandma in her room. Boy did I love those potatoes! Grandma always made sure I could have hers, too. Nights involved filling up grandmas water jug, and a spoon full of honey. I always made sure I had a cough so that I could have some honey. When grandma went to bed we would stay up and watch Cops. We thought that was the best show. I would think you fell asleep but you would hop up and bite my finger. I thought it was funny every time. At bed time you tucked me in and put on a tape of music. We would kneel
down, and you taught me how to pray. I would say, "Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the lord my
soul to keep. If I should die before I wake; I pray the lord my soul to take. Please bless.............." You
were the base of my spitituality at such a young age, and I carry that with me today.
We would often watch our movies. Run around the coffee table, say things like, "I want to be her! That one there is my boyfriend!" And we would sit or reinact the cool moves we saw on the Kidsongs videos. You so patienly let us watch them over and over. Little did I know then how painful that was. Now that I have Carson, I can't stand it! You showed love to us even at movie time.
At bath time, you would pull up the stool next to the tub and sit with me. This was our special party planning time. We talked about guests, food, the kind of cake, music, games, outfits, hairstyles, themes and balloons. We were very detailed. Our favorite part was to talk about the presents and what we would get eachother if we could get whatever we wanted. I am not sure how many other grandpas out there have those conversations. I was the luckiest little girl.
I learned to potty trian at your house. You thought it was funny that I had to hide in the closet to do it. If not the closet then behind the stove. You would bring me prune juice because I also had some other special issues we won't discuss. But you would still sit with me at these times of need and we would plan some more parties.
You always had Easter eggs hunts, JCPenny catalogs to shop in, and an answer for everything. You led me to believe some wild things, some to which I still am only finding out are not true. I think you loved it when I would sing to you on camera. You always carried that around and I am so grateful for all of those memories you captured of our childhood. You were our concert attender, award supporter, softball cheerleader, ride giver, fundraiser participant, jack of all trades grandpa.
As I got older and had other things going on, I still wanted to spend the night with you. I remember a
time when I was 13 and you took me to Mervyn's to buy some shorts. I don't know what happend, but I had an accident in the dressing room. You lovingly gave me your coat and we got the shorts. You
didn't say a word, just helped me get things in the washing machine. As embarrassing as that was, it was a special moment.
At 16, I spent the summer with you. Every day. We lived down the road so I would meet you at the garage and we would go to early morning mass together, followed by walmart for your cinnamon roll and coffee from McDonalds, and we would walk around for some exercise. We'd sometimes go to the Base and run errands at the "commisary-dairy-airy" and shop around the BX. When we came home I'd lay on the couch and we would watch lifetime movies or CMT, and look at pictures, talk about when I was little.
When I was 17 you met Nancy. Boy was I jealous. I wanted to be your favorite girl. After meeting her a few times, I grew to love her, too. I would come to your new house after class, and we would watch TV. I got you hooked on Passions. It's funny, because shortly after I quit watching, but you still did. You would call me to ask me if I saw the latest drama unfold. I would just laugh as you told me the latest soap opera tragedy.
When I turned 18, you taught me how to drive. I waited to get my license, and you patiently sat with me around town, giving me pointers. I remember you encouraging me as we rounded the scary bend on the 101 to Santa Barbara. You would even pump my gas for me, always the gentleman.
At 22 I moved to Utah. I cried on your porch the night before I left. You sent me off its money, new bedding, and a promise of love, support, phone calls and rent money. I remember calling you on several occasions, terrified. I was homesick, broke, lonely, struggling. All of the normal college stuff. When I'd call, you would listen, reassure me, and give love. You let me lay on your couch and cry after my ended engagement. You rejoiced with me when I met Devin. You traveled to Utah for my college graduation, my wedding. You were by my side. We would laugh on visits when Devin would
fall asleep on your couch, he blamed the fish tank and clocks. We taught him the trick with the lamp , and told stories. Talked about the future, how I wanted kids. How we struggled with getting pregnant. You would listen after my dr appointments with love and interest. When I told you I was pregnant at my grandmas I remember your smile. When I said "twins" and passed around the picture you just grinned. You loved me when I called and said we lost the other baby a month later. We found out it was a boy who survived, and you were elated. I told you his name and you said the silliest thing " don't name him after me! You don't need to do that." I never wanted to do anything more in my life! When Carson Richard was born, you called. We surprised you around 7 am when he was three weeks old. You fed him a bottle and I captured the pictures. As he grew, we visited. You would play on the floor with him, and sang him a silly song about bingo bango hit him with a mango, now my monkey's dead! I saw how you adored him. For Christmas we gave you a photo book, and you told me over and over again how neat it was. You shared it with everyone who came over. Carson learned to chat with you on the phone when we were in Utah. Soon we found out Nancy was sick. I found out I was pregnant. When I told you about being pregnant in the parking lot of Texas Cattle Co., you were a little subdued. You weren't as excited as I thought, but I knew you were sad that Nancy wasn't there. I
didn't get to tell her the news myself. She wanted a girl, you said another boy. On Valentine's day, I called you to say what you had thought. It was a boy. You couldn't talk as I called from the ultrasound room. You were sick and going to stay at Aunt Sandi's. Things weren't the same after that. Nancy got worse. You were apart. You got sick. I talked to you on the phone one night at Sandi's. You were having a bbq. You had a cough. The next day, you were in the hospital. You assured me that you would be fine; I wasn't so sure. We came to visit. You came home from the hospital and I would sit with you and hold your hand. We would talk about hard things, and this time you cried to me. That was hard, but I cherish it. Nancy passed away. I got to see her in the hospital, the last day you did. You were distraught. You got sick again.
Before you passed away, I told you that afternoon on the phone that we were going to name our little boy Talan Luke. Luke, after you. And I told you to go. And you listened. I miss you with all of my heart, but I know with all my soul that I will see you again. Thank you for making me, me. You were my best friend, and my favorite person. I know I married a man with similar qualities as you. He held me as I cried, and I still cry. My only regret my whole life is that I didn't dance with you at my wedding. That's the only thing I would change. I feel pretty good about that. I told you I loved you every chance I got. I hope that my kids can love someone the way I loved you. I hope that I can be to them what you were to me. I know you watch over us, and see us growing. I sent Christmas cards out this year, just for you. I sent one to people who would miss one from you this year. I hope it helped ease the pain a little. I know that you are happy and healthy now, and that is all that matters. Again, I say thank you. I sure hope you can read blogs in heaven, or that heavenly father passes along my prayers. When Grandma died, I started leaving messages for her with him. I hope you are getting yours, even though you are "over the hills and far away". Hope there is clam chowder there.
xo
Lisha Bud
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