Jewells of Thought

February 6th, 2020

Again these are the articles I wrote from three years ago Grandpa died on February 6th, 2005. It took me 15 years to write out my thoughts, feelings and a timeline of the events. If you don’t write things down the fuzziness and confusion of mourning does set in and the facts can potentially fuse together. Here I go back to 2020 and then 2005.

Last year in Hardee’s, I just happened to be around a newspaper. Honestly, I’m not sure if it was the Sullivan or the Indianapolis counterpart. the words hit me; Senator Lugar died. For some reason one of our last Sunday afternoon conversations around our table was about his Veteran’s Project; something I had once participated in. Right then out of the blue, I wanted to tell Papaw Freddy. Old habits die hard from fifteen years ago…

…still caught in my detestable cold I needed my medicine at home. There were three of us, if my memory is correct. Three cousins born within three months of each other in succession started with my birth. We headed home for my medicine and I seem to remember us going up to our Grandparent’s house to show our youngest cousin the outpouring of love on the island. Most of the island was full of food. People made sure we didn’t have to cook that entire week; showing their love as a verb and not just as a pretty word. It meant a lot to our family.

Some people stood in line for hours as literally hundreds walked up that carpet. Proof Grandpa was a popular and respected man. It was a long night and the next day would prove that as well. The only thing that went wrong in all of the funeral was that they misspelled our retired minister’s name.

In the mess of the days after no one else where Grandpa’s discharge papers were. For a few minutes I felt useful because, of course I had a copy around handy. I knew the bugler from school but she was also family at least twice over. We hugged and I remember saying Thank you through my tears. Those tears were my grief, not my worry over where Grandpa was that very moment. he made that decision years ago, his legacy is that his family will follow him there through their own decisions because of the example he set.

The testimony is the one thing I regretted not hearing. For years I couldn’t understand why I was sick and not there that morning. All of a sudden around the 10th Anniversary it finally made sense. The ones sitting in the congregation that morning were supposed to hear it and even though it was never a thought to record those words, it was not meant for me to hear. My heart finally understood; every day since I was born my Grandparents displayed this selfless love for me their family and friends. I saw it firsthand, and those memories still fill me, and all I have to do is see a picture and it all comes back to me. I have been blessed beyond measure because of their faithfulness.

Loss is huge to anyone but this felt enormous. All I knew was that I had to continue my project of interviewing Veterans, he would have wanted me to. So I did, then others began commenting that I should write a book about them. However, something personal started to sweep through me, how can I write about one Grandpa without the other. They were too interconnected, because Grandpa Freddy was so persuasive that I needed to remember his counterparts POW story; not his. Details are my thing so this book has to show both of their contributions to the narrative.

In the years between both of their deaths I have learned much. One thing very important was to spend time getting to know my Grandmothers as much as possible because who knows what lays ahead. I want to know that I didn’t make excuses and that I found out about things. Like how did my Grandparents meet and the proposal? The little things we tend to not think of until they are gone. A lesson I learned from the age of nearly 14 was time is precious and my family matters!