Today is October 9. I know what you are probably thinking. I know that, why are you telling me? Well, because it is the 21st anniversary of my Papa's ( my dad's father's) death. There are not too many days that go by without my thinking about him. I remember the day of his death as if it were yesterday. I was in the 9th grade, my brother in the 5th. It was a chilly, rainy Thursday afternoon. We had come home from school and were doing homework as was the afternoon routine when the phone rang. I will always remember the grim tone of my step-grandmother's voice as she asked for my parents' work numbers. Sensing that something was wrong because it was rare for her or Papa to call on a weekday in the late afternoon, I inquired only to get this grim reply: I'm afraid there is, sweetheart. Time stood still. That was the first time I had EVER seen my father cry. Being military, my father always said that soldiers never cried. Well, guess what?? They do and it's OK, especially when they lose someone who matters to them. I learned that day that sometimes you have to cry and that it is OK to admit when something hurts you enough to do so, though I still don't really like for someone to see me upset and do prefer to handle my feelings alone, sometimes, but that day did make realize it's OK to cry. Don't get me wrong, I'm fine, but it's funny how we remember certain dates and mentally bookmark ( if that's the word) when each anniversary of something comes. Maybe it's for commeration (sp?) purposes. It's also interesting how we tend to canonize those we love, especially after they have died, but that's OK too. At least I think so, maybe I'm wrong.
1 comment:
I think grandfathers leave a big impression on all of us. My dad's father was killed in a trucking accident the summer between ninth and tenth grade. It too was the first time I had ever seen my father cry. For my dad, he held it in for several days but I remember when the "waters broke" and he showed his grief. I still remember how I felt the first time I saw my dad cry.
My mom's father died while I was in seminary in Kentucky. Funny thing is that I don't remember my mother crying, but I know she did. I know I shed an oceanful of tears as I tried to read the 23rd Psalm at my grandfather's funeral service.
Let us rejoice in the time that we had with our grandfathers (and all special people).
Speaking of October 9th and rejoicing of special people, today is the 12th anniversary of my first date with my husband Jeff. I hope we have many more anniversaries together. Maybe one day someone will be blogging about their grandfather Jeff.
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