This isn’t a traditional post for me. Instead this is a post for me. A moment for me to take my emotions and allow them to be vomited out for the world to see. For so many of us family is the foundation of everything, chosen or otherwise.
My family foundation has lost one of its cornerstones, and that is my grandfather. On Thursday, November 21nd, 2024 @ 5:37pm my grandfather passed away, turning the page and closing a chapter on my family history.
And while it may be sometime before this article is published out of the shear emotional strain it’s taking to write it, by no means is it less important.
I always knew this day would come. That I’d be here, in this moment speaking on a life. A man, both simple and complex; mild and wild; hard and soft.
Grandpa was different to each of us, both whole and controversial, a person of principle and contradiction. He was not, nor did he ever admit to anyone that he was a saint.
But I not here to speak on the sins of the man, but instead I want to talk on the emotions and lessons he brought to me, his grandson.
I have always had good role models, strong archetypes that both provided examples of what to do, and, not to do in life. None of them ever told me to do it their way, well at least not all the time, grandpa has high expectations of his family, even when his own for himself fell short; he demanded greatness from each of us.
No person in my life had hands like him, soft as velvet when I was crying, needing love and hard as stone when I did wrong. He was a fervent protector with a conflicted but loving heart.
So many nights I spent with him in his basement learning and discovering. He was the king of fuck around and find out. (Pardon the pun).
In my later years, him and I conflicted over a number of issues, including my sexuality. It was hard for him to come to terms with it, but I didn’t fault him, nor did he fault me. It was what it was. And while it created a rift that was hard to reconcile, he asked for and about me often. Truth of the matter is, he accepted me, but I couldn’t face him. It was, and is quite possibly my greatest regret.
The man was not perfect by any means, having a long affair on my Grandmother which I couldn’t forgive him for. However Being a hyper sexual person myself, I could understand his need to find an outlet after an illness took away my grandmothers ability to be part of what he always considered a special act. And while he wasn’t someone to hide what he always said was a perfectly natural and required part of life, he was also the same person that took a holier-than-now approach to coitus with my grandmother, stating that “there are just somethings I can’t do to the mouth that kisses my children and grandchildren.”
It didn’t make it right, but it does make it understood.
He also knew everything. Starting out life with a 6th grade education, teaching himself how to read and write. He got his GED, and graduating with associates degrees in business, engineering, and a baker’s dozen of technical certifications.
He also served in our armed forces not once, but twice. First as a volunteer during the Korean conflict and later being drafted into service during the Vietnam War.
He was also a prolific story teller, most of which were made up for our childhood amusement, but to us they made him our hero.
And that is what he was to me, a hero, my hero. Not perfect in the worldly sense but perfect to me. Ever there to hear me out, and talk me down. There to lend his hand, or when needed allow me to figure it out for myself. Besides my own mother and father, no one provided a greater foundation for me to build my own existence from.
They say generations stand of the shoulders of giants, and while that statement is all to cliche, its also completely truth. My grandpa was a giant, at least to me. And I proudly stood on his shoulders. His love was as absolute as his wrath, and he was a very very special person who was also very very wrong. Hindsight being 20-20 I now see clearly who the man was, and that’s human.
I miss him, beyond understanding. Just like I miss my gram. Their life was a blessing and that’s why their loss is so painful. But when someone makes a strong impression in the molding of who you are, of course the weight of their presence will be missed when you can no longer physically feel it.
True that their lessons stay with me even now, but what I wouldn’t give to be sitting on the back deck of their house, during a summer’s night. Listening to the rain while my grandmother made us hamburgers and discussing the matters of the day with the man, who was my grandfather.
