07/13/2009 Remembering the Good Times
Remember when you were young and life was just one big game to be played and enjoyed. It seems the longer I think the more depressed I get because I miss those days when there was nothing so big that I didn't get over it in an hour or two. Now it seems that all I do is sit and brood over things that I can't control. Maybe I have been nieve my whole life and am just now waking up to the fact that not all people are good and that they will take advantage of you without remorse like vultures if you let them.
The past week has been really bad for me. My grandfather paased away on Sunday, July 5 and his funeral was on Tuesday. At first I took the news relatively well but as time has passed I began to notice that I was not actually taking it at all. I was attempting to block it from my thoughts so I could look tough and not show any emotion. His funeral service at the funeral home was ok I guess. I loved how the minister giving the service turned an event that was supposed to pay tribute to and honor the memory of my grandfather into a sermon on why Christianity is the one true religion and how we should all become Christian (I am a Buddhist by the way). We spent maybe an hour at the funeral home before we loaded up to go to the cemetary. This is when my sister and I learned that there was no graveside service scheduled. We both knew that our grandfather did not have many friends and that his relatives did not speak to him very often but good grief. I remember at the service how all I could think of was how none of these people would come see him and when the casket was opened how there was an audible gasp at the sight of him because his luekemia had eaten away at him so bad and no one was prepared. It is like my wife says, if you don't care enough about the person to even talk to them when they are alive , why would you want to go to see the person when there dead. It makes no sense to me. All I can do is remember the good times we shared together.
I remember there was a time when I had lived with Granny and Grandpa Charlie. I was a kid and Charlie would be gone for a week at a time driving his truck. When he would come home I would make Granny get me all dressed up just like him and when he walk through the door it would be as if you were looking at scale versions of the same person. I would wear the same kind of clothes that he preferred and put on his Alberto V05 hair gel and part my hair to the right. and when he walked through the door he would go straight to the table in the kitchen with me in tow trying my best to walk exactly like he did. Granny and Charlie would have to laugh.
Now I would be a hippocrite if I was to make out like I spent the entire time with him in his remaining years. Far from it. Since I was a teenager my grandma and grandpa would make me so mad that I couldn't see straight. To the point that I would walk out and go home. But I would always tend to go back and see them again. It may have taken several months to do so and it even got to the point to where he would ask me if I was lost. I would tell him nope and that the way I figure it I was exactly where I wanted to be at that particular time. He would hear that and just smile. We would then go inside the house and he would sit in the same chair he had sat in for the past 35 years (figuratively speaking of course), and we would talk for about five minutes until I had relayed all of the things going on in my life and he would talk about when he was young and relay stories of when working in Borgur and many, many stories from his years on the road. After Grandma passed away a couple of years ago, he was all alone and it was so hard for him. I don't know if anyone besides Dean and Joanne (probably the only friends he had), would go and see him. I tried to get over and see him when I could but eventually I never knew when he was home. He was in the hospital too much. After my Aunt Tina passed away, ( who I knew would go and see him because she took care of him mostly), he was committed to a nursing home and I really intended to stop and see him everyday so it would be easier for him. That was not to be though. I would see him and it was all I could do to keep from crying. The man I once proclaimed to be the biggest in the world, except for King Kong that is, was reduced to the old frail man that was buried last week. But I went to see him anyway for a time, until I could no longer stand to watch him deteriorate any further. His memory was failing, partly because of the radiation theopy that he was under for so long, and then there was the drugs that he was on inside the nursing home for alzhiemers patients. It didn't take long. less than three months in that nursing home and he was dead.
Right now I am angry at a lot of people, myself included, because he was a good man that would do anything for anybody. He deserved better than to die knowing that no one cared about him. I am angry at myself because I didn't keep a promise I had made to him to go and see him everyday. I am sure he understands though. That was how he was and if there is a heaven I am sure he is there with grandma and driving his truck or working on cars or fishing. He could also be out hunting with Judy (the dog Grandma and Charlie used to have).
Rest in Peace, Charlie. I love you.
The past week has been really bad for me. My grandfather paased away on Sunday, July 5 and his funeral was on Tuesday. At first I took the news relatively well but as time has passed I began to notice that I was not actually taking it at all. I was attempting to block it from my thoughts so I could look tough and not show any emotion. His funeral service at the funeral home was ok I guess. I loved how the minister giving the service turned an event that was supposed to pay tribute to and honor the memory of my grandfather into a sermon on why Christianity is the one true religion and how we should all become Christian (I am a Buddhist by the way). We spent maybe an hour at the funeral home before we loaded up to go to the cemetary. This is when my sister and I learned that there was no graveside service scheduled. We both knew that our grandfather did not have many friends and that his relatives did not speak to him very often but good grief. I remember at the service how all I could think of was how none of these people would come see him and when the casket was opened how there was an audible gasp at the sight of him because his luekemia had eaten away at him so bad and no one was prepared. It is like my wife says, if you don't care enough about the person to even talk to them when they are alive , why would you want to go to see the person when there dead. It makes no sense to me. All I can do is remember the good times we shared together.
I remember there was a time when I had lived with Granny and Grandpa Charlie. I was a kid and Charlie would be gone for a week at a time driving his truck. When he would come home I would make Granny get me all dressed up just like him and when he walk through the door it would be as if you were looking at scale versions of the same person. I would wear the same kind of clothes that he preferred and put on his Alberto V05 hair gel and part my hair to the right. and when he walked through the door he would go straight to the table in the kitchen with me in tow trying my best to walk exactly like he did. Granny and Charlie would have to laugh.
Now I would be a hippocrite if I was to make out like I spent the entire time with him in his remaining years. Far from it. Since I was a teenager my grandma and grandpa would make me so mad that I couldn't see straight. To the point that I would walk out and go home. But I would always tend to go back and see them again. It may have taken several months to do so and it even got to the point to where he would ask me if I was lost. I would tell him nope and that the way I figure it I was exactly where I wanted to be at that particular time. He would hear that and just smile. We would then go inside the house and he would sit in the same chair he had sat in for the past 35 years (figuratively speaking of course), and we would talk for about five minutes until I had relayed all of the things going on in my life and he would talk about when he was young and relay stories of when working in Borgur and many, many stories from his years on the road. After Grandma passed away a couple of years ago, he was all alone and it was so hard for him. I don't know if anyone besides Dean and Joanne (probably the only friends he had), would go and see him. I tried to get over and see him when I could but eventually I never knew when he was home. He was in the hospital too much. After my Aunt Tina passed away, ( who I knew would go and see him because she took care of him mostly), he was committed to a nursing home and I really intended to stop and see him everyday so it would be easier for him. That was not to be though. I would see him and it was all I could do to keep from crying. The man I once proclaimed to be the biggest in the world, except for King Kong that is, was reduced to the old frail man that was buried last week. But I went to see him anyway for a time, until I could no longer stand to watch him deteriorate any further. His memory was failing, partly because of the radiation theopy that he was under for so long, and then there was the drugs that he was on inside the nursing home for alzhiemers patients. It didn't take long. less than three months in that nursing home and he was dead.
Right now I am angry at a lot of people, myself included, because he was a good man that would do anything for anybody. He deserved better than to die knowing that no one cared about him. I am angry at myself because I didn't keep a promise I had made to him to go and see him everyday. I am sure he understands though. That was how he was and if there is a heaven I am sure he is there with grandma and driving his truck or working on cars or fishing. He could also be out hunting with Judy (the dog Grandma and Charlie used to have).
Rest in Peace, Charlie. I love you.
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