Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Ever since Grandpa passed away, I’ve been enjoying reliving so many memories of him. During the following couple of weeks after he died, it seemed like each day I came up with 100 more. I’ve been wanting to write this post for some time, but it’s been hard to make myself do so. I guess I just haven’t felt quite ready to accept that Grandpa is gone (for now), and maybe writing this forces me to accept that reality. But, today is Grandpa’s 96th birthday, and it feels like a perfect time to write this post and pay tribute to him by sharing just a few of the many hundreds of memories that have been floating in my head for the past few months. As a preface to this blog post, I refer you to Erin’s and Jill’s blog posts about Grandpa, which were so amazing to read, along with my earlier posts called On Death (Tues, June 16, 2009) and Sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa’s House! (Mon, Aug 24, 2009).

When I think of Grandpa, one of the first images that comes to mind is Grandpa ice-skating. He often spoke of his love of ice-skating on Redmond Lake. I’ve visited Redmond Lake several times, and I can remember standing by the lake on a late warm summer’s day, imagining teen-age Grandpa ice-skating like a pro. Fortunately, I also got to see this pro-skating first hand at the cabin many times. This picture was taken in December 1987 at the cabin when he was 72. To this day, I can still see Grandpa gracefully gliding along the pond and canal, doing turns, and then coming to a perfect skidding stop. It was so awesome! After Grandpa stopped skating, there were many times when I would be on the pond and canal almost aching for those old days when he would come skate with us, but also feeling so grateful for the memories of those days. I can only hope that I’ll still be skating well into my 80s some day.

Another fun memory I have of Grandpa was in late June 1992, the week of John’s farewell and possibly even the night before. We were all out on our back patio on a beautiful summer’s night. At some point in the evening, someone brought out our old-school jumprope, and we started taking turns jumping. I don't know if the grandparents were already there or had just arrived as we were jumproping, but Grandpa decided he wanted to join in the fun, so at nearly 77 years old, Grandpa jumped right in and didn’t miss a beat! I'm so glad that dad captured this moment. I don’t think I have laughed so much. It was amazing!

In December 2001, Libby Aagard’s mother, Ruth Enke, passed away. Shortly before she died, the Aagards called Grandpa to come give her a blessing to release her from this life. He was also asked to speak at her funeral. A few days before her funeral, I went over to visit the grandparents. Grandpa was in his study working on his talk and so we started talking about our philosophies of death. Sort of a weird subject to be discussing with someone who was within less than 10 years of dying, but the weirdness quickly passed, and it became kind of a spiritual experience. Grandpa told me about his experience with Ruth during those last few hours. He said that she started having a lot of serious questions about life after death and whether she really believed everything she was taught. Before he gave her the blessing, in response to her growing fears about dying, Grandpa shared with her these beautiful and unforgettable words: “I think death is a sweet experience of exploration and new discovery.” After he told me that, I just stared into his eyes, tearing up wondering what I did right to deserve such an amazing grandfather. He had no idea what a gift he gave me by sharing that experience, but now, anytime I feel sad about him or anyone dying, I repeat to myself those comforting words.

In May 2006, I had a laparascopic surgery, which, by today’s standards, was pretty much a run-of-the-mill surgery. I was mostly just really tired and in some pain as my body was trying to get rid of the carbon dioxide gas that was necessary for the doctors to perform this procedure. The pain from the gas mostly affects your shoulder and upper back area and can be as painful as any disc flare-up you’ve ever had. It comes and goes, but when it’s there, it’s kind of excruciating. Following the surgery, mom took me down to Orem to spend a few nights there. Once we got home, I was feeling well enough for a few minutes to walk around. I remember standing in front of the grandparents’ house talking to them along with mom and Pat Shaw. The gas pains started up again, so I announced that I needed to go lie down. Grandpa insisted that I come rest in their house and escorted me to his special chair. He asked if I would like something to drink. I told him that the doctors recommended that I drink soda to help the gas get out of my system, so Grandpa promptly disappeared for awhile. I had no idea what he was doing, but at this point, all I cared about was trying to find some comfortable position while the gas pains were moving around my upper back. Maybe 15 minutes later, Grandpa re-appeared with a tray in hand, two different soda cans opened, each with straws prepared for my sipping. I realized then that he had been down in the basement carefully and thoughtfully preparing these sodas, not sure of which I would prefer, so he brought them both. He made sure that the tray was set where I could reach it, and then he quietly exited the room, leaving me for a few hours while I got some much needed rest. At 90 years old, he was starting to get used to everyone doing everything for him and telling him to not do this or that, but this time he got to be the one doing something for someone else, and for his 29 year old granddaughter, no less! You could just see the joy and delight and excitement in his face as he waited on me that afternoon. Selfless to the end.

The last memory I want to share was from sometime in the last couple of years. Grandpa’s memory was at the stage where names no longer stuck with him and he began to need reminders of who his own family was. By this time, I was kind of used to him not remembering my name, but for him to need reminders that I was his granddaughter was a new thing and it definitely upset me a bit. So on this one particular Friday night (maybe in 2009?), I slept over at the grandparents’ house. I was planning to make an early escape Saturday morning, but you know, the best laid plans.... So I ended up sleeping in and joining Grandma and Grandpa for breakfast. While Grandma was preparing oatmeal and toast, Grandpa and I sat by the island talking. I was pretty sure that Grandpa knew I was someone in the family, but I wasn’t so sure he knew exactly what our relationship was. Grandma may have told him who I was sometime that morning, but not while I was present. Grandma finished breakfast and then asked Grandpa to bless the food. During his prayer, he said the usual things about gratitude for the beautiful day, for the gospel, for the food, and then he said, “And we’re grateful that our granddaughter could be with us today.” I somehow managed to not start sobbing right then and there, but I couldn't control the tears. Thank goodness his prayer went on a bit longer so that I could collect myself before everyone opened their eyes again. Even as I’m writing this I’m sitting here crying all over again. That may have been the last time he really consciously knew who I was. I’m so grateful for that memory, and probably hold on to that one more than any other.

Grandpa, I love you and miss you. I’m so grateful that circumstances made it possible for you to be a part of almost every day of my life. I hope you are having a happy birthday today with your mama and other family members. Maybe they'll even be up for singing you the long song! :)

Much love til we meet again,
Susannah