Good-bye Granddad

As long as we live in this world we will face our own mortality and that of our loved ones.

As long as we live in this world we will hear the phone ring occasionally and receive the kind of message across the wires that we didn't really want to hear.

This morning we got the call that Wesley's maternal Granddad passed away in the wee hours of the morning while we slept.

His death was not unexpected, and therefore did not hold the tragic shock that accompanies the sudden passing of the young and strong, but it still brings an aura of grief as we realize that someone we loved is gone. Gone beyond the reach of phone-calls and birthday cards, Sunday- afternoon visits and the sharing of holiday meals. Hardest of all is the fact that he is gone beyond the reach of opportunities for conversation...for listening to and learning from someone older and wiser.

Like anyone who has lived into their nineties and who has seen a lot of changes in our world, Granddad had stories to tell, including from his time spent fighting in War War 2. Some of these are recorded and some remembered by those he told them to, but the rest die with him. This is sad to me, lover of stories that I am.

Grandad loved his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I remember him talking about his "great family" at a holiday gathering several years ago.

But everybody knows that great families do not just happen. I only came on the scene about 9 years ago, when Granddad was already in his eighties, but from what I observed and experienced personally, Granddad had the family he had because he worked hard and loved much.

When Wesley and I were married nearly 8 years ago, both of my sets of grandparents were already gone, and Wesley's paternal grandparents were gone as well, so that between the two of us, we had only one set of grandparents, Wesley's mother's parents, Granddad and Bomie left. This made them all the more special and we were always honored to visit and spend time with them.

Coming from a family where I hardly even know how many cousins I have because there are so many, it was new for me to be a part of a family where there were only 10 grandchildren (not including spouses.) Because of the size, family gatherings were still held at Granddad and Bomie's house up to about 2 years ago, when health issues preempted such gatherings. These gatherings were always special to me: noisy, happy affairs where, when dinner time came, everyone got a seat at one of several tables. When it was Christmas time and gifts were exchanged and opened in the basement, it was so noisy you could hardly hear yourself talk!!! The dessert buffet boasted so many delicious options that it presented a problem (how many can I eat without getting a stomach ache?!!)

The past several years were increasingly difficult for Granddad, suffering from Parkinson's disease and the ravages of advancing age. Thankfully, he was able to live in his own home up until this past Sunday, when he went to the hospital and from there to a hospice facility. The fact that he was able to live at home as long as he did is a testimony to the love and devotion of his wife, our beloved Bomie, and his family, particularly Aunt Barbara, who lived at home and rearranged her work schedule so that she could be available to help her parents.

Our most recent visit with Granddad and Bomie was this past summer. Their place is about two hours from us and we drove down on a Sunday afternoon. Bomie and Aunt B made a wonderful supper for us and Granddad sat at the head of the table as usual. Bomie set two places for Elasa & Gavin at a little child-size table by a large set of windows in the dining room overlooking the yard and several bird feeders. On this visit it was all the more obvious to us that Granddad's life was fading and that much of his former zeal and enthusiasm was gone.

Granddad felt over the past several years, as his world grew smaller and his body less cooperative, that his life didn't hold much purpose. Of course we didn't feel that way. His family held the value of his life dear up to the very end, which is as it should be.

Saying good-bye to a grandparent holds a special sorrow. This sorrow comes from realizing that someone who is so much a part of the genetic fabric of your life is gone. Obviously, this would qualify for Wesley and not me, but I still feel the sting of missing someone near and dear. Someone who called me "granddaughter" after being without that title for many years. Granddad was someone who was not afraid to pay a compliment, give encouragement or tell someone he was proud of them. He took an interest in our lives and in our children. Who would not be endeared to someone like that?

When someone from the older generation passes away, we realize that while life does not always follow the natural progression where death comes to the old and leaves the young, if it does, this means we have just stepped forward in line.

As long as we live we will face the mortality of mankind.

But lest we become discouraged, let us be reminded that the sting of death is lost in the hope of immortality.

And not just any immortality, but one spent with God, in a place where there is no such thing as Parkinson's disease or old age. And where you certainly don't need a cane to walk on the streets of gold.

Good-bye Granddad.

(You can view the obituary for Charles K. Lape, Sr. here.)