A year ago today, my mom and I were in Vatican City, mailing postcards to my grandparents in New Mexico.
A year later, we've spent the weekend mourning my grandpa, my mom's dad, who
passed away Thursday. Time sure flies...
My mom's parents divorced when I was a toddler. I don't actually remember a time they were together, although I've seen photos. Subsequently, I didn't spend a lot of time with my grandpa as a kid.
But as a kid growing up in El Paso, Texas, there were things about Grandpa Joe I loved to brag about.
He was the Fire Chief of the El Paso Fire Department. That's pretty cool, right? He'd been burned in a big fire resulting from a railroad incident near the I-10 freeway, and I'd always think of him when we drove by the section of the freeway near UTEP. There were patches of skin on his head and hands that carried those burn scars for the rest of his life and always reminded me he was a fireman. My little brother followed in his footsteps and has been trying to make a career out of firefighting too. He always called Grandpa "Chief."
My grandpa was heavily involved in the El Paso community, and served as President of the El Paso Lions Club when I was in 6th grade. This is an important fact because the Lions Club was the group that handed out certificates each year to all of the elementary school safety patrol members, thanking them for their service.
I was the only safety patrol nerd who could brag that
my grandpa signed all those certificates... which I, of course, still have :)
We moved to California while I was in high school, and it is since then that I have most of my memories of him.
In retirement, my grandpa spent hours in his workshop making beautiful things out of wood. Everything from a tiny purpleheart maple bowl that sits on my dresser holding jewelry, to little wooden trucks, to this gorgeous rocking horse he made and donated to his church for a charity raffle. He and his wife Mary would get in their motorhome once or twice a year and drive across the Southwest, to a crafts show in the middle of the Arizona desert where they'd buy materials and visit with the community of craftspeople they got to know over the years.
They would come visit us before or after the craft show, parking their motorhome on the side of my parents' house and spending two or three days with us, just catching up. We'd eat dinners in and watch football... in recent years with the closed captioning turned on the TV, since my grandpa's hearing wasn't that great anymore. It's weird how many motorhomes I've noticed this weekend...
A few times over the last decade, they organized great family reunions, so Grandpa could see all his kids and grandkids that are scattered across California, Oregon, New Mexico, Texas and Missouri. We spent 4th of July 2004 in the tiny mountain town of Ouray, Colorado, where my cousin was working for the local newspaper. The town is known for its 4th of July celebration, which consists of a parade anyone can join, a giant water fight with fire hoses, and beautiful fireworks over the surrounding Rocky Mountain range.
Then we all gathered at he and Mary's home in Las Cruces for his 80th birthday six years ago. It was a two-day event and I remember spilling Coke on my camera the first night, buying a new camera at Best Buy the next morning, and then taking tons of photos the next evening. I've been looking at those photos a lot this weekend.
I think it was that trip that I was once again drafted into "family IT person" mode, and helped fix their internet connection. My grandpa had an AOL account for the longest time (although he finally moved to gmail about a year ago). He used his email account to forward emails... lots and lots of emails. Many of them were political. Being that he was a Texas Republican, I deleted a lot of those emails after reading the first sentence. But every now and then, he would forward an email of beautiful nature photos, or a touching story about a child or a soldier (he was a WWII vet -- both my grandpas were), or a list of 43 things you can use WD-40 for. I kept a lot of those. I even
blogged about one of those emails on Valentine's Day last year.
Every time I made the decision to save or delete one of his emails over the last year or so though, it felt like a major life choice. He has been in deteriorating health for a while. And I knew that one day too soon, I wasn't going to get to make a choice about those emails anymore, because I wouldn't get any more of them. That day is now here.
Every time we'd say goodbye, he would say, "You are so special to me." Grandparents are supposed to say stuff like that, but it didn't make it any less meaningful, because when saying it in person, Grandpa Joe would hold my hands and look me in the eyes and I knew he meant it deep into his heart.
I know I told him I loved him, but I don't know if I ever told him he was special too.
He was. And I'm going to miss him.
