An Ever Present Pain

I have had the opportunity in my life to have known two very great and important people. They were people who had a very deep impact on my life in more ways than I can count and both of them have passed on. My grandfather and my aunt. My grandpa died 10 years ago, and my aunt 11.

I find myself still thinking of them often. Whenever I look into my daughters eyes and see the love of life and fun that she has I think of my aunt Laura. She was a very beautiful woman. She had reddish brown hair, hazel eyes, dark skin. She was usually the life of the party. She was a devoted mother and wife. Very active in her church and extended family and a top sales rep for her company.

I used to talk to her about almost everything as a teen. When I was afraid to talk to my parents or grandparents I went to her. She was a listener. People loved her deeply. At the age of 35 she was stricken with breast cancer. She went through the treatments and beat it...and then it came back and killed her within 6 weeks. Her funeral had nearly 1000 attendees. I had never seen so many people at a funeral service in my life.

I wasn't there with her the night that she died, but I was there the night before, shortly before she went into her final coma. We were all standing around the bed as she gave her "last orders" to everyone. I just remember standing there on her right side crying and telling her that I loved her and that I would miss her. She looked back at me and in a very scratch and weak voice she told me "Christopher, I'm so proud of you. Don't cry for me. Be brave. You have grown up to be a fine young man."

I can still remember standing there next to the bed fighting the tears. We eventually had to go home. Mom and Dad took my sister and I home for the night and then they headed back to the hospital to be with her and the rest of the family. A few hours after they all reassembled at the hospital around her bed. She slipped into her last coma and gracefully died.

Laura was the glue that held our family together. She had the ability to be tough enough when everyone needed to get their butts kicked by her. She loved God, her work and her family. She was a great mom to her kids.

At the graveside service, before they lowered the casket into the ground, I took off my ID bracelet that had my name on it and clipped it onto the hand bar of the wooden box in which she lay. In a way I wanted a piece of me to go with her. I did feel as though a part of me also died with her.

She is continually on my mind and there is not a time that goes by when I still don't cry when I run across an old picture of her.

My other hero was my grandpa, Bob. He was the quirkiest guy I knew. His clothes seldom matched, he was always making strange noises and sounds with his mouth, he always had a joke, and seemed to get along with everyone.

I remember when I was a kid spending a lot of time up at the hospital visiting him. He had French Polio for a while and got over it. I was really too little to understand everything that was going on at the time.

As I got older and could understand some more things I saw him go through two heart attacks and open heart surgeories; both of which he pulled through.

My sister and I used to spend pretty close to every weekend with my grandparents. Grandpa and I would build things in his shed. I would help him with things around the house and we would often get up early and go fishing together on summer mornings. When they lived in an apartment complex for older people he and I would go for breakfast almost every Saturday morning at Perkins restaurant which was just a short walk away. He would let me order whatever I wanted to and he would just sit and drink coffee. We would talk about all kinds of things.

When I was old enough he found an old battery powered car for me. Someone had thrown it away and he fixed it up. He put new wheels on it, a new steering wheel and a new battery. I used to drive that thing everywhere. And when I was even older yet, he made me a pair of stiltz. I had never had anything like that before. I felt like I was on top of the world.

The most exciting and probably memorable part of all my time with him was when I turned 14. I had just gotten my driver's license. He had gotten in too many accidents on the side of the road when out hunting for empty pop cans so grandma told him that he couldn't drive anymore. So I had a new job- I was now grandpa's driver. He had a little 2-door Honday CVCC that we drove everywhere. In essense he really taught me the essentials of driving. It was during a lot of those drives that I got to know the most about him.

He had worked in the saw mills of Oregon as a young man until he decided to enlist in the Navy during WWII. When he got out of the Navy he decided to go into the ministry. He served in the ministry for about 30 years before he had to retire due to health reasons. He loved psychology and history. When he died I inherited all of his books that he hadn't already donated to various churches. I think that inadvertently I also inherited so much more from him.

Even though I got busier with things toward the end of High School I would still go over to grandpa's house and help him with different things around the house and yard. Sometimes I would just have time to kill and so I'd go visit for no real reason at all. He was just nice to be around. I used to call him up and ask him questions about various things that I was studying...and he would occasionally call me just to say hi and tell me that he loved me.

I remember him calling to talk to me on a Sunday afternoon and I was gone. When I got home my mom told me that he had called and for some stupid reason I pushed it back on the odds that he would call back later. The next day I went to school, then piano lessons, then show choir rehersal. I got home around 9pm and my mom got home shortly after. There was a message from Grandma asking that mom call her "as quickly as she got home." I heard mom pick up the phone and start to talk to grandma...then I heard her yelling and crying "NNNOOOOOOO!!!" Grandpa had died earlier that night. He and Grandma had been talking throughout the evening and eventually he closed his eyes for a nap, as he often did, only this time he didn't wake up.

For the longest time I hated myself for not calling him back sooner. I thought that maybe somehow if I would have just called him back and talked to him that it could have changed the course of fate or destiny and he would still be here today. I eventually stopped blaming myself though. That's not to say that I don't regret not having that one last conversation with him though. God, I wish I could have heard his voice that one last time.

It has been 10 years since his death and I still miss him. I miss him when I sing the songs with my daughter that he used to sing with me. I miss him when I tell the jokes that he used to tell. I miss him when I look into my son's face and see that he looks so much like his great grandpa.

Laura and Grandpa, there are probably so many more pages that I could fill with things to say about you but I just don't have the time or the energy.

I know that you probably aren't even aware that I spent the time writing this stuff down, or aware of my tears that have fallen down my face as I think about you, but I guess for my sake I just wanted to tell you both how badly I've missed you and that I can't wait until we meet again.