The other day I watched in fear as Rick let first Ava and then Sophia drive in his tractor with him. He let each one have a turn pushing buttons, raise and lower the attachments, back up and turn in circles. He drove with one down from the trailer and the other back onto the trailer. The mom in me cringed at all that could go wrong, but the little girl in me was so proud that their father was doing some cool things that will undoubtedly be imprinted in their minds forever. There are many of these moments I have been able to watch from a distance, biting my tongue or sneaking around the corner out of sight so that the girls will have these special memories of when they did something cool with daddy.
Rick and I have traded stories in the past of when he worked side by side with his dad every day, when he got up before dawn to go hunting or early mass and then breakfast with his dad. My memories were not with my father though, they were with my grandpa Jack. There are fathers and there are father figures, and while I was lucky to have my father in my life growing up, there are many things I have yet to make amends with. My father passed away almost 15 years ago, and we had a difficult relationship. My grandpa Jack, on the other hand, was easy to be around. I was happy just being in his presence when I was little. He took the time to teach me how to play Backgammon, he would let me take the wheel on his old Ford truck, and play on his CB in his RV on camping trips. He taught me how to drive a boat, the process of making honey, and where to find the best biscuits and gravy. He loaned me money to buy my first car, and rescued me when I got lost driving to his house on my own for the first time.(I am seriously hazardous when it come to directions.) While my grandma was working, we would walk to visit his neighbors, get butter brickle ice cream, tinker in his wood shop, and make dinner. He was a flirt with the ladies, a dirty old man, and he tells the tallest tales you have ever heard. He was happiest touring around with his family and friends in his boat or RV. He loved going on fishing trips with the boys, camping by the water, and making huge breakfasts with fried eggs and bacon, and lots of butter on his toast. He's a strong headed, stubborn German. He was a man's man and it is ironic that with all his testosterone they would have 3 daughters. We joke about the Jack curse that all his grandchildren gave birth to girls, no great-grandsons (yet) because of his machismo.
My grandpa is ready to end this chapter of his life and be with my grandma in heaven. I don't think she's ready to put up with him yet, because he's still with us withering away in a waste of a body. It's heartbreaking and frustrating to watch such a big burly man end up this way. But that is life and sometimes life just sucks, it doesn't make sense, and you just need to be thankful for the things you do have. I guess this is probably in bad taste to write something of a eulogy before my grandpa has died, but I want him to know how many imprints he has made on my life. How there are too many stories to tell. How when I made a bad decision, it was him I was afraid to disappoint. That my husband reminds me a lot of him, and that's not just a coincidence. I have been mourning the loss of my grandpa Jack from the moment I found out his health was failing him. I wish we lived as close as we did when I was growing up, but distance doesn't allow me to visit him as much as I would like to. He just celebrated his last birthday the other day. I really hope his wish comes true soon, because as hard as it will be to feel his absence, this is no life for him.
