Thoughts Today
No matter how much you “prepare,” no matter how much you’ve “been
there, done that,” it’s still hard to lose someone.
I’m no stranger to death. First death was when I was too
young to remember it, buried my mom’s biological father. Since then, I’ve
buried 3 grandparents (yes 3, and 2 more to go), numerous great aunts and
uncles, some family friends, and some friends. I’ve had 2 people in my life
commit suicide. I was able to attend one of those funerals.
I’ve been to viewings, rosaries, and funerals for people I
barely knew, for people I looked up to, and for people I loved dearly.
All of that doesn’t make it any easier to lose someone.
When I met J’s Grandpa Weigel, I immediately fell in love with
him. He was all smiles and jokes until it was time for business. You could
still hear the slight accent in his voice from growing up in a community of
German immigrants. And he gave great hugs.
Then you learn that he only had an eighth grade education
and taught himself to read and write. I got pretty good at translating his
handwriting and misspellings. It wasn’t
hard.
He didn’t remember my name at first. After my first visit,
he called me Melissa. We still joke about that. Not entirely sure it was an
accident. The man had a keen mind and great sense of humor.
It was obvious to me that Grandpa loved his family. He kept
pictures of all of them above his desk. He made sure no one felt left out. Even
us in-laws. I called him Grandpa, and he
reminded me of my Grandpa Pete, Mom’s step-dad. Both ranchers, but tough outside
with soft insides.
I treasured our visits with Grandpa Weigel. I would even
stop and visit on my own if I was traveling through. I would plan my trip to
stay at least one night with him. He came down to El Paso to visit us twice. He
met Rembrandt at 5 months old. He left me bring my pets when traveling through.
His cuckoo clock scared the hell out of Duke. He always had a new name for Remy
– Fido, Spot, Blacky, Shadow, any random dog name.
He’s an Army veteran. He served in the Korean War. He was
injured over there. He came through Fort Bliss on his way out of the Army. He worked as a meat cutter while running his
ranch in Colorado and raising 5 kids. He nursed his wife through breast cancer.
He lost her to breast cancer. I never got to meet her, but from what I’ve heard
of her, she sounds quite a bit like my Grandma Gus (Mom’s mom).
When Grandpa got sick, it was lung problems. A tiny little
part at the back of my mind said I was losing Grandpa Pete all over again (emphysema).
They are not the same man, but he reminds me of him.
Grandpa Weigel died today. He was weak, using all his energy
just to breathe. He had lost more weight than a person should lose. He could
barely walk across his room.
I love this man deeply, more than I can express. I’ve always
been a “grandpa’s girl.” I adore my grandpas. I adored this one just as much. He
accepted me as I was, as part of his family. I will never forget that.
I wrote his obituary. First time doing that. My sister was
nice enough to edit it for me, since she has newspaper experience. I will do as
much as I can to make sure everything goes well at his funeral. Not for him,
but for my husband, my mother-in-law, her sisters. This is where all that death
comes in handy.
I know that the funeral isn’t for him. Grandpa is gone, he
is with Grandma somewhere. Funerals are for us, so we can have closure and say
goodbye. Grandpa was a good man and I have no doubts about his soul. This is
for us now, so we can remember him and celebrate his life.
Plans are being made for the critters. I’m grateful for my
milspouse family here as they are helping me out with that. My mom let me talk
and vent this afternoon to keep my sanity. My sister is editing the obit for
me. My friends and family are amazing.
And for a close, here is a pic of Remy and I with Grandpa,
taken on our trip last June, 2011. Please ignore how horrible I look in this
photo.
He sounded like an awesome guy.
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