Homer

last week my grandfather died. these are my first coherent thoughts that I shared with friends and family on facebook...

when I was really little and learning to speak... as most children do, learning the names of family members were some of my first words. Of course, when I ask my mother what my first word was, she says she doesn't remember and that I just started speaking in sentences... but I remember learning to say Grandpa's name. Hooooooommmmerrrrrrrr. Now... considering that I have called him Grandpa my whole life, it seems odd to have this memory of learning his first name. However, when it comes to Grandpa, having memories and telling stories was always important.

Saturday morning a good friend drove me to the chattanooga airport at 5:30am to catch a flight into Milwaukee. when I got my luggage, mom picked me up and seemed in a hurry. By the time I got to the hospital, I had understood that they weren't sure I was going to make it to say goodbye to Grandpa before he passed away. Not only was I able to say goodbye, but I was blessed to spend his last 12 hours with him.

After everyone left the hospital and it was just Grandpa and me... we watched the Clemson/FL State Game... then watched some Dick Van Dyke show (cause I couldn't find a good old movie). I talked about all of my friends that he had met through the past 30 years and talked about my new life at grocery store I am working at. I told him that I hope to be the kind of manager someday that he was at the feed mill... and that this company is going to be a place where I think that I can. I apologized for all the Christmases that Mom asked me to sing and I was to shy or embarrassed to sing... and then I sang to him. I sang some of the great hymns... and I sang some of the great standards. I like to think that he heard me... and once thought I almost saw his mouth curve into a smile.

At some point I fell asleep in the chair next to his bed holding his hand. The nurse came in to check on him and he needed some attention so I left the room as they attended to my grandpa. Yet it was during this time that he began to take his last breaths and they brought me back in the room. As hard as it is for me to say goodbye to grandpa... I felt it was a privilege, an honor, and a blessing that I could be the one with him when he died. He waited for the Lord's Day of rest and gave his tired broken body rest. If heaven is what they've told us, he's got new legs... and new hands... he's with the ones he loves who have already gone, and awaits the loving people who will join him.

He is the father figure in my life who loved unconditionally, never let me down, and pushed me to be the best I could in every facet of my life. He has touched so many lives with love in his 95+ years and I am honored to be his one and only favorite granddaughter. My sadness is so easily replaced with joyful memories and hope for the heavenly banquet that grandpa is feasting at (and he doesn't have to struggle to hold the silverware...) Thank you Homer... Grandpa... you are always loved, remembered and live on in who we are today because of your love.


I can't say that I'm entirely at a place where I can be selfless enough to not miss hearing his voice on the other end of the telephone or watching one of his movies that he's taped off of AMC. I can't say that those memories are enough to sustain me in the coming weeks or months as the reality of his death sets in. However, I can say that of all the lessons learned so far... I'm currently remembering his lesson for new and old drivers... "there will always come a time."

We are an impatient people... and Grandpa taught me to be patient and wait for the right time. Don't just pull out into traffic, that is reckless... rather... wait, because there will always come a time. No matter what I do, I can't make THAT time, the time to get into the flow of life, come any faster. Although today may seem like another ridiculous moment in a string of road blocks... there WILL always come a time.

so I wait.