Gone but never forgotten...

Friday evening while Nicole and I were at Carrabba's for our Valentines date I got a phone call from my grandma's number. Normally, I don't answer or return calls when out with Nicole, but my grandma _never_ calls me. So I checked my voicemail to discover my dad telling me that my grandpa (his dad) had passed away earlier that afternoon. Although it was not entirely unexpected, as he was 90 years old and finally starting to slow down, I found myself sadder than I thought I'd be (most who know me know I'm not emotional about much at all). After Carrabba's, I took Nicole to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (we'd already been, but Nicole _really_ liked it, so I figured we'd go again) and I have to say, watching that movie on a "normal" day (we saw it for Nicole's birthday the first time) is one thing, but watching it an hour after learning that my grandpa died was a totally different experience, and not in a bad way.

When we got home that evening, Nicole of course had to blog about the movie again, and I figured that we'd be going to bed fairly soon, so I didn't start working on homework. So I sat and remembered things about my grandpa. Here are some of my thoughts about a truly incredible man:

1. 20 years ago, I never wanted to be the one to go with Grandpa when we split up while hunting, because I had to run the whole time to keep up, and he never seemed to slow down. Ever.

2. A large part of the reason I switched from wanting to be a fighter pilot when I was that little to wanting to be in the Army was when I learned that Grandpa had served in World War 2, and his dad (my great-grandpa) had served in France in World War 1.

3. A few years later, when I was big enough to do actual work when we would go cut firewood but still young enough that I didn't realize exactly how old he was, I began to take it for granted that stacking on Grandpa's side of the truck meant that I had to stack fast, because he would hand wood up into the truck much faster than I could stack it, and he never seemed to slow down. Ever.

4. As long as I can remember, Grandpa has had a fairly significant hunch, which I learned about the same time (age 13 or 14 or so) had come partly because of having several inches of his small intestine removed after being shot 5 times in a failed robbery of the rock and jewelry shop he and my grandma ran at the time (early 70's) and partly from working _very_ hard his entire life. Grandpa's toughness and resiliency took on a whole new meaning for me then.

5. When I got older and started wandering around the Arizona Strip and Cedar Mountain by myself (well, with my gun and my dog) I would spend some evenings sitting in Grandpa's room telling him where I'd been, and listening to what he had done in those same places. I learned a _lot_ about the places I loved to be from him. I learned where the deer went during different seasons, where the eagles wintered, and a host of other things from these evening visits.

6. We used to sit around listening to Grandpa's stories every now and then, and let me tell you, he's been there and done that (at least as far as outdoor things are concerned).

7. I don't think I'll ever have sourdough biscuits as good as the ones Grandpa used to make.

8. Dad, Grandpa and I (sometimes with my mom along for the ride) used to go scouting for the place we'd go roll Easter Eggs every Easter. Despite the fact that we went every year, he always knew where there was another sandy hill that would make a good egg-rolling track.

9. After I got home from Basic Training, Dad and I would spend evenings talking to Grandpa again about different places around Southern Utah, what animals lived where, what we'd seen out riding around, etc...

10. Grandpa had a sense of humor. One evening in the fall probably in the early-to-mid-90's when most of the family was there and we were bottling veggies, Grandpa starting making the rounds with spoonfuls of his pickle-relish. It was yummy, until the little red chilis he had put in it kicked in, at which time he'd laugh and bring a glass of water.

11. On another occasion, Grandpa laughed for about 15 minutes straight at Mom's reaction to something that she wished she hadn't said. First time I'd ever seen him laugh so hard he cried. If you were there, you know what I'm talking about. If you weren't there, you'll have to ask me in person as I won't incriminate anybody or anything on my blog. :) (don't worry, it's nothing very bad)

12. Even as he got older (as if mid-70's isn't old enough to start slowing down) and started to slow down a little, he still chopped and carried in his own firewood, fed and took care of my uncle's animals, grew a garden (until just a year or two ago) and did the same stuff he'd always done, just not quite as much of it.

I have far too many memories of Grandpa to list them all here, but I'll always remember the time I spent with him, sitting by the wood stove, sitting in their living room, sitting on the chest in his bedroom while he rested in the evenings. For a lot of years of my life, Grandpa was a central figure in things I liked to do: hunting, hiking, camping and many others. I learned many valuable life lessons from him, not the least of which is to just keep on going. and going.

So I'll miss my grandpa. He's always been there, and always been such a solid and seemingly unchanging part of my life. But the silver lining is that sooner or later I'll see him again, tall and straight as he was before being shot and long years of hard work, and I'm sure he'll have that same quiet manner, with the occasional glint of mischief in his eye, and probably not slowing down much. Ever.