And I Told You To Be Fine

I was all set to post about seeing Les Miserables last night and how, even though it was a community theater production, it was still amazingly awesome and I how much I loved it and how I might have even cried a few times, but then I got a call from my mom this morning so I guess the Les Mis post can wait. My grandfather (Mom's dad) passed away last night. Normally, I would be quite upset about the passing of a grandparent. It is, after all, the first grandparent I've lost. Here I am, 25, and I've had two sets of intact grandparents, both married for well over sixty years, around for my entire life. I've been very lucky that way. I wasn't particularly close to my mother's parents because they lived in a tiny little town in the eastern part of Utah and we saw them maybe once a year growing up. Even when I lived in Utah, I hardly ever saw them, though they were only a two hour drive away. (Yes, I feel guilty about that.) My grandparents were such stubborn old people, I'd thought they'd be alive forever. The number of illness, falls, spills, and hospitalizations amongst the two of them, I was pretty sure they were never going to die. I don't mean that to sound cavalier or flippant but seriously, if you'd battled leukemia, breast cancer, two broken hips and no longer had a functioning jaw, wouldn't you be about ready to call it quits? And that's just my grandmother we're talking about.

My sister Bobbi, the aforementioned grandmother, me, and my sister Cassy, last March.

My grandfather had been deteriorating the last few years so the news of his passing isn't unexpected. I find that it's actually a welcome relief. He'd starting experiencing dementia a little while ago and it became rather difficult for my 80+ year old grandmother to take care of him on her own so my family made the hard decision to put him in a assisted living facility. The last time I saw my grandpa was this past March, and he barely recognized who any of us were and you could tell he was just miserable. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to lie in bed. He just wanted to go home. I can't say I blame him.

My grandfather was born into a large Polish Catholic family (100% Polish) and grew up in Gary, Indiana (I dare you to not think of the song from the Music Man) before he wandered into Utah during the latter half of the Great Depression. He met my grandmother, a young Mormon girl of 17, married her, settled in Eastern Utah, and became a coal miner. (He wanted to join the military during World War II but a medical condition and the need for coal kept him where he was.) They've lived in the same tiny little home in the same tiny little mining town for 60 years. My grandfather joined the church about 18 years ago (I was probably 7 or 8 at the time) and my grandparents were later sealed in the temple.

My grandfather was a rather large and imposing man, with the most massive hands I think I've ever seen. His life was not easy, but he worked hard and I've always been proud of the fact that he was a coal miner. But most of all, without him, I wouldn't have my mother, the oftentime kooky lady that she is, but she's my mother and she's the smartest woman I know and the first person in her entire family to earn a college degree and do something with her life, like giving birth to me. (My mom rocks, y'all and not just because she gave birth to me.) And for that very reason alone, I love my grandfather. The hardest part of losing him is not the grief I personally feel but the pain and concern I feel for my mother, who just lost a parent. Sure, my mom and her dad had a rocky relationship, but he was still her father and I have a pretty good idea of how much that must suck. Even if you are nearly 60 years old, and your father lived a good long life, and it was his time to go. It still has to hurt.

Mom, Cassy, James, Grandpa, me, Bobbi, Jeremy, March 2008

I don't know if I'll be able to make it out to Utah to attend the funeral because airfare is not cheap, especially to and from Hawaii, but I hope that something will work out. But before you start feeling all sad for me or start missing your family members, it's time to point out that even though I've lost one grandparent, I've still got these people:

And they are my three remaining grandparents (at my wedding reception in June) and I expect them to live a long time still. Especially because if either of my dad's parents pass away, I'll be a blubbery mess because I am VERY close with them. How cute is my grandpa in his bow tie?!? And my other grandma is pretty much the coolest grandma ever. No joke.

But if that's not enough to convince you that there's hope in this world, then you have to remember that this little girl just came into our lives (and okay, maybe she belongs to my sister but I think she might share her) and she's tiny and perfect...

...and that her older brother might just be the cutest kid ever. See? Look at him wear his daddy's combat boots!!!

And if that's still not enough to convince you, then I'll just mention that there will be another baby in May because my other sister just announced that she's pregnant with her first and you can be sure that that baby will be just as special. And you can also be sure that my husband will come home from a long day at work and give me a big hug and not even care that I didn't clean the house (which is a mess) or make the bed or fold the laundry (which has been in its basket for nearly three weeks) and that I'm currently wearing a blanket like a dress. And until he comes home, I'll go eat some chocolate and listen to good music (the title of this post comes from my new favorite song, "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver) and I'll remember that life goes on and life is good. Especially when there's chocolate. And babies and husbands. But mostly because there's chocolate.