The past week was a difficult one for me and my family. Not only have I still been battling the Fibromyalgia lumps breaking up in my scalp and that pesty sinus infection that just doesn't want to go away..... but I have felt the horrible feeling you get in your gut when something is changing.
Last Tuesday night I was watching a movie with the boyfriend when around 9pm I all the sudden felt more alone in the world. It was like a part of my heart was ripped from chest. The boyfriend was suppose to go meet some of his friends and I flat out refused to let him leave until the movie was done. Tears streamed down my eyes and I clung to the poor guy like I was never going to allow him to go anywhere without me. I didn't know what was bugging me and what was eating at me like that. I was scared.
Eventually I let it out of my mind enough to get some sleep and went to bed feeling depressed. Eventually I was able to fall asleep.
Wednesday morning I awoke to my early morning alarm clock demanding that I get up to take my medication. I grabbed my phone and stumbled out of bed to the medicine cabinet. While filling up my drinking cup I noticed that I had one missed call and a voicemail. I looked at who the missed call was from.... Mom and Dad. It was at 8am. My parents never call me that early unless something is wrong or something has happened. I stared at the missed call notice for a few moments "Grandpa is gone." I whispered to myself. I called my voicemail and listened to the message just to be sure.
Strangely enough he past away right at the time I felt my world shrink the nite before. 9:02pm. The voicemail Also said that they waited till morning to call me since I've been sick. They didn't want to wake me if I went to bed early. I stood there still lost in nothingness. I was still half asleep, feeling like crap, still feeling horrible from the strain I felt the nite before. Eventually I noticed that my cup was sitting in the sink and the water was still running and the cup was overflowing. I shut the water off and called work letting them know what had happened and that I wouldn't be able to come into work.
I crawled back in bed and huddled up next to my wonderful boyfriend. "What's wrong?" He asked me.
With a yawn and a frown I told him my grandpa had passed on. He held me tight until I feel back asleep.
Later that day I went and grabbed my paperwork for bereavement from work and spend more that a few hours with my mom. I made sure that she and I got something to eat and then spent a couple of hours going through all my grandpa's old photo albums looking for good pictures of him to pull. Some of them were glued on and we had to put the pages in the freezer to make the glue crack so we could safely remove them. The pulled pictures were then given to my mom for here to organize to stick to picture boards for the funeral home and for the luncheon that would follow the funeral.
Eventually I was dead tired and went home to bed. The next day I worked and turned in my paperwork. We arranged for me to be off the next three days to grieve, help if needed, and to attend funeral services.
Friday night we had a short memorial service at the funeral home. Saturday morning I woke up early after only 3 hours of sleep to a nasty Fibromyalgia cycle and indigestion from some "sympathy" food I had eaten. I knew that there was no way I was going to miss my grandpa's funeral. I took all my meds, drank some coffee, and called my dad to come and take me to the church. At the church one of my cousin's from Canada helped me slap on a few lidocane patches to help reduce the pain. I made myself suffer through everything.
The funeral services was a traditional Catholic funeral which somehow struck me as odd since I could not honestly remember my Grandfather ever going to church for anything other than confirmations and first communions. Instead of covering the casket with the traditional christng cloth it was covered with a "pal" (paul) which is a woven, garment used to cover the dead in other countries. This pal is so old that we have no idea exactly how old it is. My Grandpa's grandmother brought it with her when she came over from Hungary over 124 years ago. This garment is always passed down to the oldest daughter so who knows how long it had been passed down prior. My grandpa's sister Tracy had it up until her death. Now her oldest daughter keeps it and had brought it with her for the service.
Eventually services were done and we followed the casket out of the church and got in line behind the hearse and followed it east of town to the small community of New Underwood's cemetary. Graveside service was held and when down the priest backed away and said "Now let's all sing Home, Home on the Range." At first I thought this was some joke. Then my mom and my aunts all started to sing. I joined in. Sadly we could only remember the first verse so we sang it a few times over.
Even in death my Grandfather had a strange since of humor. He had requested in his last will and testament that it be sung.
It was a sad day. Some of us stood by and watched as they lowered him into the ground. It was at that point that I realized he was gone. I had been trying so hard to keep my promise to my Grandpa. He had asked me years ago to not cry for him when he died. I broke my promise. The tears flooded down my cheeks, and my nose ran. Everything pooled above my upper lip and eventually spilled over while I stood otherwise motionless. It wasn't until they put the cement lid on top that I was able to break free of the sight and grab a handkerchief from my coat pocket. It was time to go to the luncheon at the New Underwood Community Center.
It was a horrible loss to my family to have my Grandfather taken away from us, but at the same time it was a joy. Grandfather was 100 years old. He had lived a very full and interesting life.
He was born in 1911 in his grandparent's house where he and his family lived until his dad was able to afford to buy land and build his own homestead. Grandpa finished the 8th grade and then began to help on the family farm. In 1934 he moved out to the Black Hills near Piedmont where he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps. (CCC) He helped develop the area to allow for easier access to the public for tourism.
Eventually he became a farm-hand for a local couple whom he worked for and broke horses for. He taught a few travelers from New York State that were passing through how to ride horses. He married my grandmother and they lived in Piedmont until my grandpa had enough money to buy his own land to homestead.
His land already had been settled and the house already on it he added a basement, a kitchen, eventually a bathroom, and once the time of led battery power had passed he put in his own electricity.
It was there that he raised my mom and her siblings. He farmed hay to feed his cows and winter wheat for extra profit.
He always found time to be a good husband, dad, and grandfather. He use to walk 8 miles a day to take and pick up my oldest aunt from school. He always found time for everyone while taking breaks from his work.
Later on my grandpa got worried that if he got injured he wouldn't be able to support his family so he needed to learn another trade. He ordered parts once a month from a radio show and put them together to build the first family television. He figured that way if anything were to happen he could become a television repair man. That television now long past its years of life still sits in the barn.
As my grandpa got older in years he decided that he should try to invent things. His first invention, a 13-month calendar, gained him enough fame that he was interviewed by phone from a radio station in Australia. Eventually it caught wind and in 1990 he was a guest on the Late Show with David Letterman.In 1993 he was asked to be a contestant on a game show hosted by Bill Cosby called "You Bet Your Life" where he and his tattoo artist partner from Iowa won.
Grandpa's next invention was the "Cow pie" clock. He use to look through the fields and barnyard carefully looking for untouched cow pies. He would seal them up in resin, and attach clock parts to them. Many people have received a cow pie clock from him. Bill Cosby even got one.
Grandpa lived a long, full life with many achievements and a family that will always love and remember him.
We each have our own memories of my grandpa. He taught me how to play cribbage. He taught me how to steer a vehicle. (His old 1929 Ford tractor that I almost ran into a ditch.) As a result he taught me my first cuss phrase. "Son of a Bitch".
Grandpa use to take me into the field with him and tell me about cows, hair, birds, and rocks that he would find, which he stuck in his pocket and would later polish. I still carry my agate in my pocket that I found that he polished for me.
One day out in the field he took me with him to the windmill to make sure it was pumping well water for the cows. I asked him what the long thing was that goes up and down. "It is the shaft that controls the pump." I asked him what would happen if I touched it. "You will break your finger." He told me.
He left me sitting next to the windmill staring at the shaft while he went to fork some hay for the cows. Being a curious 6 year old kid I wondered what a broken bone would feel like. I sat there staring at my hands for awhile and decided that my left pinkie wouldn't matter if it broke because I didn't need it as much. I touched that shaft and there was a loud "Crack!" I stared in shock at what had just happened. The shaft broke straight in half and fell to the ground. My finger was fine. Grandpa's temper was not. He spent 3 days looking for a replacement shaft for the windmill pump.
A few years later I was staying the night with my grandparents and grandpa had forgotten to flip off the switch for the windmill pump up in the barn. He had already taken his work boots off and gotten undressed all the way down to his long underwear. I offered to go flip the switch off for him. It was already late at night and dark out so he handed me a flashlight so I could see the way to the barn and up the stairs to the switch. I had barely stepped inside the barn when I saw three pairs of yellow glowing eyes staring and hissing at me. At first I thought it was barn kittens and I followed them to the back of the barn and saw them hide behind a wooden fence piece laying against the wall. I walked back to the front of the barn and flipped on the light and walked back and moved the board back to try to get them out to take them back upstairs by their parents. I screamed. It was not cats. It was a strange looking animals barring their teeth at me and hissing.
Quickly I ran out of the barn and into the house and got grandpa. He put on his slippers, and got his gun and went to the barn. Shots were fired. I huddled on back porch scared to death.
Just like nothing happened grandpa came back carrying 3 dead corpses and his gun.
"Well...... now I know what has been eating my feed. Damn raccoons!" He said. I looked at the corpses in the porch light. That was exactly what they were. All of the times on TV I had seen raccoons I had never seen them look so scary as they were to me.
As the years past and I got older I started to help grandpa with branding the cows. My job being so tiny was to get the calves into the cattle shoot. I would pull on grandpa's overalls over my own clothes because they were the right length and they kept me from getting covered in cow shit. It didn't stop my uncles from getting rocky mountain oysters stuck in my hair though, or from walking away with a few bruised ribs.
Time passed and I started to get sick all the time and I stopped helping. My last memory of my grandpa is of him sleeping when I came to visit him in the nursing home. That's what he did a lot of before he passed. He died of natural causes peacefully in his sleep.
Ironically shortly before I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia it was discovered by an allergist that I developed an allergy to cows, grass, weeds, and cats. That is what put an end to my field adventures with my grandpa. It was those developed allergies that also lead to the discovery of my Fibromyalgia.
In a strange way if I hadn't had the luck to have a grandpa that was a rancher and farmer, we might not have been able to get my diagnoses when we did.
I owe my grandpa a lot. He taught me a great many things and in a way helped me find out what my medical condition is. Like I said before, we all have memories of my grandpa and he will live on in our hearts forever. I was just glad to share a few and tell part of his life story. I love you grandpa, and farewell.
