It has been a fast and roller-coaster whirlwind two weeks around here.
I received the call two weeks ago today that my grandpa had passed away. With my parents, sister, niece and nephew and his wife of nearly 63 years by his side, he quietly drew his last breath on this earth and was gone. We all knew this day was coming {he had reached the very-experienced age of 92} and we were actually praying that he would find peace soon to end the constant torment of headachs and low-mobility.
My grandpa was a great many things. When I was little, he was stern faces, farming, KDHL radio, early to bed and earlier to rise. I remember being surprised and delighted when I could pull a sideways grin from his always tan, wrinkled face. I don’t remember him ever yelling at us…which says alot about his everyday disposition {who would dare want to get grandpa riled up?!}. As I got older, I went to him for school reports. Historical information; both my Papa and Grandpa had excellent memories. He came to my volleyball matches and softball games. He was there for my high school graduation and celebrated with me when I came home from college. He was always there. Present, observing, offering up a quiet smile, a one-line zinger; a constant stronghold.
After college, but before marriage, I was stuck in a pickle. I had found myself a job out of college and had already decided I needed to go back for a different degree. Pairing a full-time school schedule with previous student loans and a mediocre-paying job made finding affordable living a touch difficult. When I pitched the idea of living in their basement for a few months, my grandma and grandpa welcomed the idea with open arms. Three years later, I moved out and into a house with my husband. While some would consider living with their, eh, conservative grandparents during their mid-20s a bit of a bummer, I found it most relaxing and rewarding. The notes back and forth, random bits of gifted leftovers in the refrigerator {theirs and mine}, ‘late’ night living-room chats over popcorn and apple slices, working side by side in the garden, getting the mail, stern laughing lectures about my excellent cleaning abilities…or lack thereof. Yes, they were two of the best roommates I’ve ever had {second only to the fellow and our pup}.
When grandma and grandpa moved into the Northfield Retirement Community a year ago, it was hard. It was hard for them to part with the home they had built and loved so much; it was hard for us to watch them. But the choice was ultimately the right one and they both soon settled into life of true retirees. No more laundry, cooking, cleaning, vacuuming…they fit in just fine. Visiting them both in their new home turned out to feel pretty much like visiting them in their old home. Chats in the living-room, sewing with grandma, sitting with grandpa. Talks about farming and gardening, walks around the retirement community, treats in the dining hall.
Slowly, he began to nap more and talk less. He still kept a watchful eye and had an amazing pulse on not only what was happening in the outside world, but also on his sons’ farming and business operations. He always asked about this business, about our house and any trips we had been on or were about to embark upon. About a month ago, I showed him a couple short videos of the fellow and I snorkeling, Jeeping and adventuring in Mexico and I was able to coax another sideways grin. Shaking his head, he patted my hand and just smiled.
It will probably be one of my most favorite memories with him.
Harold James Little
July 16, 1923 – May 10, 2016
