Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Forever and Ever, Amen

When you hear that a loved one has a terminal disease, it hits you like a ton of bricks.  But then the doctors say some people have lived with this rare form of Lymphoma for as long as 7 years so you become overly optimistic and think that your loved one with be included in those studies.

My grandpa has always been a strong man.  A mans man.  So when our family heard last fall that he had this rare form of Lymphoma, it hit us all like a runaway Mack truck.  Our family flocked to be by his side for Thanksgiving.  We all sat around the holiday turkey and ham and prayed.  We prayed for him to beat the odds and live to see many more Thanksgivings.  As the evening wore on, I sat down next to this incredible man and made him promise me one thing, that he would live to see the twins I was carrying.  He looked me in the face, squeezed my hand and said he would.



Months passed and it appeared that the chemo was working and while he had his rough days, he remained positive.  At one point the doctor even told him he could have a glass or two of red wine on non-chemo weeks.  I found myself reflecting on my childhood with grandpa. 

My earliest memory is of a stuffed Koala Bear that he bought me at a flea market.  I'm not sure why this one stuffed animal sticks out so vividly in my mind, but I remember kissing it's hard plastic nose and hugging it tight as we walked back to the truck that day.  Then there was Christmas.  Year after year, I remember him walking around their house with a large black garbage bag threatening to throw away any toys that were left laying around.  Most would think he was kidding, he wasn't! 

We spent countless hours fishing together.  I would climb into the back of his Ford Bronco II and head to the lake when I was a little girl. In my early teens, we would venture out to the "Marijuana Hole" together to fish one of the best spots on the river.  Back then I wasn't that into fishing, but it was more about spending the quality time with him.  I think he knew that I had it in me to hang with the guys when it came to a line and reel.  Years later, he was with me when I caught my first Salmon on the Trinity River in my twenties and he was there when I pulled up my first crab pot on the Coquille River.  He instilled a love for the outdoors in me that I will never be able to thank him enough for.

He taught me that love can stand the test of time.  He had a bollo tie hanging from the rear view mirror of that Bronco.  On that tie were the Snap, Crackle and Pop elves from the Rice Krispy box.  There was a story about him having one very similar to that when grandma and he were dating and I believe sometime in the 70s she was able to find him another one.  I watched those little elves sway back and forth while singing along to Harry Belafonte on our way to Trinity countless times.  If he caught me slacking and not singing along, he would rewind the song.  Then we would listen to Randy Travis' "Forever and Ever, Amen."  Listening to that song with my grandparents in the front seat, showed me that you can find your happily ever after.  From early on, whether he knew it or not, he had showed me that I would find that one special one to grow old with just like he had back when he was 15 years old.

The day I got married, he presented me and my husband two custom fishing poles, also known in our family as Razz Rods.  On those hand wrapped rods, one read "Forever" and the other, "And Ever, Amen."  That night, June 15, 2002, we danced to The Judds' song "Grandpa".  That day was an amazing day, but dancing with that man is one of my fondest memories from that night.



As I held his hand during his final days, all these memories came flooding back to me.  Here was a man that raised four boys, watched over a dozen grand kids grow up and even lived to meet 10 great grand children.  I sat there 48 hours before he passed with my twins, that we had all waited so long for and he just told me over and over again how amazing and beautiful they were.  The day he passed he opened his eyes and saw my precious little girl sitting on his bed. he then reached out for her and held her hand.  At that moment, he didn't have to say a word.  I knew he was thinking back to the day I was born and he had lived to see me not only have a beautiful little boy, but also a gorgeous little girl.  That night, as he took his final breath, he was surrounded by most of his family and he was able to move into his new life knowing he was and always will be loved by many.  Rest in peace grandpa.  I love you, forever and ever, Amen.


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