My grandparents were married for 62 years. They were farmers, raising sheep and wheat and milo and my mom and her sister and two brothers. They were good, honest, hardworking people with a strong, quiet faith and an absolute love for family and friends.
His funeral was hard for me, not only because he was my last remaining grandparent, but because I heard so many stories from so many people that made me realize how much of a life he lived - things that I knew little or nothing about. How he and his friend took off for The West during the thirties to "find their fortunes." The pranks he and my grandma's brothers used to pull on each other. How he and Grandma and my mom and her siblings would all work together to bring in the harvest each year. Just things that gave me a bigger picture of the man I clearly only knew a glimpse of.
Grandpa was a World War II veteran (a maintenance crew chief on the B-24 bombers), so at the grave site they conducted a military burial. As we pulled in to the tiny country cemetery we saw, all lined up, backs straight and proud, eyes ahead, a line of men wearing their military best--not one of them under 70 years old. The pastor read a few verses and spoke a little, and then a tottery old man left his place in line, came over, saluted my grandpa, and presented my uncle with a folded flag. He gave a very formal speech thanking my grandpa for his service to his country and at the end, in such a sad and sincere voice, simply said "We're gonna miss 'im." Oh, did I cry. Then they did the three-shot volley and one of the men played Taps. I don't think there was a dry eye.
My cousin Brian spoke at the funeral service - of all the grandkids, he knew Grandpa best. At the end, he read this verse by Walt Whitman - a tribute to my grandpa who loved the land.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love.
If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
As hard as it is to know people are gone, I'm so happy for Grandpa. He lived his life. He had a solid faith. And I know Grandma's probably up there talking his ear off right now.
2 comments:
Kristen,
I'm so sorry about your Grandpa. It's really hard to lose someone you love. If I could, I'd give you a hug and fill your freezer with ice cream.
That Walt Whitman passage brought me to tears. I think your Grandpa and my Grandad might have been friends...they were from quite a generation, and will always be missed. Blessings, bloggerfriend. My prayers are with you.
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