It's been a long week since last Thursday night. I don't think I've had a good nights rest since I heard the news of grandpa. We spent all of last Friday morning in the ICU and the remainder of the day doing typical errands as well as just hanging around the house playing video games and 'wondering what to do'.
Saturday was the day grandpa passed away. We left the hospital after hearing over and over his doctors assuring us they did all they could. To me, the best they could have done (which is what they did) was give us the last moments that we had with him. Those of us that were at his side with him were able to say our goodbyes and know (and share and reassure) that he left us peacefully and quickly. As this was his way; Mannie said it best, he always left us in the mornings quickly and quietly but was always back later to be with us for breakfast. Grandpa really loved his traditions. And one day all of us will be with him again for breakfast.
Saturday evening, my grandmas house was full of uncles aunts cousin's and great grandkids. We had KFC and Wendy's burgers but none of us really touched our food. We sat around going thru small treasure boxes, looking at photos on her walls and going over grandpas last wishes. Grandma said that he had been ready and they both had already taken the time and found were they wanted their final resting place.
I felt so special to be with her at that moment and I will cherish seeing two of her daughters and one of her sons taking turns sitting by her side as she spoke. As I sat looking at long forgotten memories of my grandpa, I remembered all the lessons and values they both taught me. I remembered my parents sending me to stay with the grandparents in that same house with what would seem like whole summers but were probably only long weekends. We all shared our memories of him with each other and filled the house with laughter and tears of joy.
Finally grandma said she was tired and wanted to rest, so slowly we all hugged and said our goodbyes. My uncle is taking this really hard but grandpa pulled him aside long ago and told him everything he wanted and showed him where all the important things were. Every time I saw that he was alone (which was rare) I went to hug him. It's been a while, if ever that I've ever been that close to him. Hopefully one day when he is ready, the two of us can spend some quiet time at the range.
My surrogate family and I piled into the twin cab truck and surprisingly we drove home in a very rare silence. Before we all piled in, we were all laughing and joking about who was gonna sit where. On the way home, the song "Rooftops" played on the radio. I think I heard my cousin Stef started crying at the same time as me. Wednesday at his viewing, there were over 1000 digital images of his life on display. Yesterday while driving to grandpas service the SAME song started playing and while I sat there listening to it, I saw those same digital images in tune to the music.
I can't help but think about him now when I hear the melody and the words to me seem to fit his life as I remember him. I also can't help but cry, but they are tears of joy. Mannie went out last night and bought the CD, I was joking around and said to him that that CD needs a special place in his CD book. With Gonzalez letters in glitter, golf, bowling, fish and camera stickers. So if you ever see that, you know the story behind it.
His children also had a very special song that was played at his eulogy; A country tune called 'Daddy's Hands'. I remembered years ago as the aunts and my uncle sat around one christmas and played the song for him on a new stereo they bought him. I think this might have been when they were trying to start his collection of CD's. I honestly can't recall why the song was played, but I know I've heard it before and it was with family. I know back then that the song fit grandpa to a T because of the stories that my aunts and uncles would tell us all about him. As we all sat listening to this song you could hear and feel the raw emotion from those around you.
I'm taking this alot harder than I thought I would. During his services I was surprised that his immediate family took up the first 10 rows. I couldn't bring myself to look behind me but I could feel the room was full. Can you just imagine how large of a family him and my grandma made? By most standards, our family is pretty small (especially when I compare it to my dad's side). In his service, the words from my blog were read aloud, As it was read there was lots of laughter mixed with small amounts of tears and that meant more to me than anyone will ever understand. In the future when I am asked what my greatest accomplishment was, that is going to be it. I got my point across, I made them smile at my memories of him. I understood and got him. I did something right.
When asked by the pastor, my mother had the courage to stand up and speak about him. I looked on from my seat in the second row and saw how anxious she was and watched as she almost jumped out of her seat. She was so excited to get her words out and you could see her determination. Lucky for me I was sitting at the isle so I was ready to rush to her aide if she needed my comfort. As I sat there listening to her beautiful words dedicated to her father of how proud she was of him; I was beyond proud of her because she had the courage and strength to go thru her whole speech with very little emotion. I saw grandpa in her, and I see those traits in myself as well.
My mother and her sisters had mentioned at our family dinner just hours before attending his wake was how my grandpas eyes always seemed to sparkle! No matter how tired he was, he was always happy and excited to be around his family. While my family attended his wake, a couple came in, signed his guest book and paid their respects. As they were leaving they introduced themselves as friends from his church. The most important thing they said to us and what made them stand out to me was they also brought up how much his eyes twinkled, and how excited he always seemed to be when attending his church services. Its nice to know he was the same way with others as he was he was with us.
Everyone deals with grief in their own way, for some it comes out as anger to those closest to them. I know this is a trait I possess; in my past someone wanted to know why I only seemed to lash out at them. I saw this trait in many members in our family and was victim to it over the course of the week. I see and I know and understand that it is a show of love. In myself I want to work on a more productive way of expressing my anger as I see now how painful it is to be on the receiving end.
I overheard my brother apologizing for his shoes and his discomfort in wearing them. He's come to terms with the choices he's made in his life and he is living it as best he can. You can see in his eyes how tired he is, and you can see in his body and posture just how hard he works. I hear in his speech just how much he has changed over the course of the years. Just hearing him apologize also showed a great sign of maturity.
I was surprised at the response I heard said to him as it's shown that some people really think about their replies. "We're all just glad you're here." I'm glad that was said, and not the typical 'speaking down to a child' response that I've heard and also been a victim of this past week. The first thing I said to my brother when I saw him that morning as I hugged him was that I was so glad he was here, and if he was alright. I don't even think I noticed what he was wearing, as I was just comforted by his presence. I even thanked his wife for coming with him because I know it's hard to bring a small child on such a long trip.
What? Is that anger you just read? Yes. But I'm dealing with it and not going to let it get to me. A very difficult lesson that I'm finally starting to accept is that family is most important. Over the past three years I'm starting to see and realize just how 'good' I have it and how much I really have to be thankful for, and just how expansive my safety net is. I'm glad I am home, and I am starting to question less and accept more, on 'why' others are glad I am here as well.
As we drove to his interment, I saw the dark storm clouds looming all around us. It seemed the sun was shining only on our little section of town. The forecast mentioned thunder and rain storms. I was so glad for only having to deal with high winds. There were two rows of seats, a much smaller section than was available at his services earlier. My mother wanted me near her, just in case. She didn't want to sit and I didn't either, but she said what I was thinking "Grandpa wouldn't want us sitting, he deserves for all of us to stand." As she sat down in her place of honor, I stood next to her hugging her as best I could.
I keep thinking back about everything I learned from grandpa. Some things I can't believe I failed to mention earlier. He absolutely loved to take pictures!!!! One of the photos I saw in his digital collage was one of him with his old fashioned VHS camcorder. Just last holiday 2005 he STILL had that camera with him. In another recent photo he got a gift of an 8pack of VHS tapes. Over the years he was given newer and smaller camcorders, but he never opened them, much less used them. He preferred his BIG one. He would walk around telling stories to his camera while filming us all. I can't wait to see these tapes again just to hear his voice.
My cousin James and I talked about him in detail on Tuesday night. We talked about our road trip along the eastern Mexico coast when I was 13 and he was 10. The grandparents took me him and our cousins Jennifer and Eric on what seemed like their second honey moon. They both introduced us to 'real' mexican culture which is different than the Tex-Mex that we were so accustomed to. This was also the first time I had food other than pizza and burgers. I remembered ordering dishes and both of them telling us stories about how they had eaten it in their younger days. The first time I ever had black beans and yellow rice was on that trip to Mexico. I looked at my plate in disgust and declared I would not be eating that and asked for my regular brown beans and red rice.
Jennifer, who was probably only 5 or 6 at the time, looked at her plate, didn't even wince, took a bite and announced in her cutest voice possible that it was the best rice and beans EVER!!! Grandpa strongly suggested that I try it, (because if I didn't eat it, I would not be eating anything else for a while) so I did, and she was right! They were the best ever. I think that was where I began my culinary experiences and my taste for good food developed. It wasn't until I moved to San Diego five years later that I would find black beans and yellow rice again. Those lessons from my grandparents really helped me adjust and try all the new asian foods there as well.
There are so many other things I remember, such as walking down the hallway while visiting my grandparents house in San Angelo and taking my grandpa some peanuts in the shell or when my grandma finally got tired of the mess, cashews in the can. I also remember the jars of salsa in the used planters glass jars. I remember mailing those salsas that my grandma made and said that grandpa tested their hotness to my then husband all the way across the world when he was on his west-paks.
Along with what I've written here are all the unspoken/unwritten things. Yesterday it hit me just how much I already miss him. I was also reminded by so many that he is still here. Looking thru his photo albums, I see his face in my two uncles, as well as my cousin Eric. His sons share his love of sports and the outdoors. My mother and I have his way with words, My aunt Chris has his compassion, My aunt Stella and I share his love of art and photography, and finally My aunt Julie has his soft fine hair. He lives in all of us, and protects us everyday.
Saturday was the day grandpa passed away. We left the hospital after hearing over and over his doctors assuring us they did all they could. To me, the best they could have done (which is what they did) was give us the last moments that we had with him. Those of us that were at his side with him were able to say our goodbyes and know (and share and reassure) that he left us peacefully and quickly. As this was his way; Mannie said it best, he always left us in the mornings quickly and quietly but was always back later to be with us for breakfast. Grandpa really loved his traditions. And one day all of us will be with him again for breakfast.
Saturday evening, my grandmas house was full of uncles aunts cousin's and great grandkids. We had KFC and Wendy's burgers but none of us really touched our food. We sat around going thru small treasure boxes, looking at photos on her walls and going over grandpas last wishes. Grandma said that he had been ready and they both had already taken the time and found were they wanted their final resting place.
I felt so special to be with her at that moment and I will cherish seeing two of her daughters and one of her sons taking turns sitting by her side as she spoke. As I sat looking at long forgotten memories of my grandpa, I remembered all the lessons and values they both taught me. I remembered my parents sending me to stay with the grandparents in that same house with what would seem like whole summers but were probably only long weekends. We all shared our memories of him with each other and filled the house with laughter and tears of joy.
Finally grandma said she was tired and wanted to rest, so slowly we all hugged and said our goodbyes. My uncle is taking this really hard but grandpa pulled him aside long ago and told him everything he wanted and showed him where all the important things were. Every time I saw that he was alone (which was rare) I went to hug him. It's been a while, if ever that I've ever been that close to him. Hopefully one day when he is ready, the two of us can spend some quiet time at the range.
My surrogate family and I piled into the twin cab truck and surprisingly we drove home in a very rare silence. Before we all piled in, we were all laughing and joking about who was gonna sit where. On the way home, the song "Rooftops" played on the radio. I think I heard my cousin Stef started crying at the same time as me. Wednesday at his viewing, there were over 1000 digital images of his life on display. Yesterday while driving to grandpas service the SAME song started playing and while I sat there listening to it, I saw those same digital images in tune to the music.
I can't help but think about him now when I hear the melody and the words to me seem to fit his life as I remember him. I also can't help but cry, but they are tears of joy. Mannie went out last night and bought the CD, I was joking around and said to him that that CD needs a special place in his CD book. With Gonzalez letters in glitter, golf, bowling, fish and camera stickers. So if you ever see that, you know the story behind it.
His children also had a very special song that was played at his eulogy; A country tune called 'Daddy's Hands'. I remembered years ago as the aunts and my uncle sat around one christmas and played the song for him on a new stereo they bought him. I think this might have been when they were trying to start his collection of CD's. I honestly can't recall why the song was played, but I know I've heard it before and it was with family. I know back then that the song fit grandpa to a T because of the stories that my aunts and uncles would tell us all about him. As we all sat listening to this song you could hear and feel the raw emotion from those around you.
I'm taking this alot harder than I thought I would. During his services I was surprised that his immediate family took up the first 10 rows. I couldn't bring myself to look behind me but I could feel the room was full. Can you just imagine how large of a family him and my grandma made? By most standards, our family is pretty small (especially when I compare it to my dad's side). In his service, the words from my blog were read aloud, As it was read there was lots of laughter mixed with small amounts of tears and that meant more to me than anyone will ever understand. In the future when I am asked what my greatest accomplishment was, that is going to be it. I got my point across, I made them smile at my memories of him. I understood and got him. I did something right.
When asked by the pastor, my mother had the courage to stand up and speak about him. I looked on from my seat in the second row and saw how anxious she was and watched as she almost jumped out of her seat. She was so excited to get her words out and you could see her determination. Lucky for me I was sitting at the isle so I was ready to rush to her aide if she needed my comfort. As I sat there listening to her beautiful words dedicated to her father of how proud she was of him; I was beyond proud of her because she had the courage and strength to go thru her whole speech with very little emotion. I saw grandpa in her, and I see those traits in myself as well.
My mother and her sisters had mentioned at our family dinner just hours before attending his wake was how my grandpas eyes always seemed to sparkle! No matter how tired he was, he was always happy and excited to be around his family. While my family attended his wake, a couple came in, signed his guest book and paid their respects. As they were leaving they introduced themselves as friends from his church. The most important thing they said to us and what made them stand out to me was they also brought up how much his eyes twinkled, and how excited he always seemed to be when attending his church services. Its nice to know he was the same way with others as he was he was with us.
Everyone deals with grief in their own way, for some it comes out as anger to those closest to them. I know this is a trait I possess; in my past someone wanted to know why I only seemed to lash out at them. I saw this trait in many members in our family and was victim to it over the course of the week. I see and I know and understand that it is a show of love. In myself I want to work on a more productive way of expressing my anger as I see now how painful it is to be on the receiving end.
I overheard my brother apologizing for his shoes and his discomfort in wearing them. He's come to terms with the choices he's made in his life and he is living it as best he can. You can see in his eyes how tired he is, and you can see in his body and posture just how hard he works. I hear in his speech just how much he has changed over the course of the years. Just hearing him apologize also showed a great sign of maturity.
I was surprised at the response I heard said to him as it's shown that some people really think about their replies. "We're all just glad you're here." I'm glad that was said, and not the typical 'speaking down to a child' response that I've heard and also been a victim of this past week. The first thing I said to my brother when I saw him that morning as I hugged him was that I was so glad he was here, and if he was alright. I don't even think I noticed what he was wearing, as I was just comforted by his presence. I even thanked his wife for coming with him because I know it's hard to bring a small child on such a long trip.
What? Is that anger you just read? Yes. But I'm dealing with it and not going to let it get to me. A very difficult lesson that I'm finally starting to accept is that family is most important. Over the past three years I'm starting to see and realize just how 'good' I have it and how much I really have to be thankful for, and just how expansive my safety net is. I'm glad I am home, and I am starting to question less and accept more, on 'why' others are glad I am here as well.
As we drove to his interment, I saw the dark storm clouds looming all around us. It seemed the sun was shining only on our little section of town. The forecast mentioned thunder and rain storms. I was so glad for only having to deal with high winds. There were two rows of seats, a much smaller section than was available at his services earlier. My mother wanted me near her, just in case. She didn't want to sit and I didn't either, but she said what I was thinking "Grandpa wouldn't want us sitting, he deserves for all of us to stand." As she sat down in her place of honor, I stood next to her hugging her as best I could.
I keep thinking back about everything I learned from grandpa. Some things I can't believe I failed to mention earlier. He absolutely loved to take pictures!!!! One of the photos I saw in his digital collage was one of him with his old fashioned VHS camcorder. Just last holiday 2005 he STILL had that camera with him. In another recent photo he got a gift of an 8pack of VHS tapes. Over the years he was given newer and smaller camcorders, but he never opened them, much less used them. He preferred his BIG one. He would walk around telling stories to his camera while filming us all. I can't wait to see these tapes again just to hear his voice.
My cousin James and I talked about him in detail on Tuesday night. We talked about our road trip along the eastern Mexico coast when I was 13 and he was 10. The grandparents took me him and our cousins Jennifer and Eric on what seemed like their second honey moon. They both introduced us to 'real' mexican culture which is different than the Tex-Mex that we were so accustomed to. This was also the first time I had food other than pizza and burgers. I remembered ordering dishes and both of them telling us stories about how they had eaten it in their younger days. The first time I ever had black beans and yellow rice was on that trip to Mexico. I looked at my plate in disgust and declared I would not be eating that and asked for my regular brown beans and red rice.
Jennifer, who was probably only 5 or 6 at the time, looked at her plate, didn't even wince, took a bite and announced in her cutest voice possible that it was the best rice and beans EVER!!! Grandpa strongly suggested that I try it, (because if I didn't eat it, I would not be eating anything else for a while) so I did, and she was right! They were the best ever. I think that was where I began my culinary experiences and my taste for good food developed. It wasn't until I moved to San Diego five years later that I would find black beans and yellow rice again. Those lessons from my grandparents really helped me adjust and try all the new asian foods there as well.
There are so many other things I remember, such as walking down the hallway while visiting my grandparents house in San Angelo and taking my grandpa some peanuts in the shell or when my grandma finally got tired of the mess, cashews in the can. I also remember the jars of salsa in the used planters glass jars. I remember mailing those salsas that my grandma made and said that grandpa tested their hotness to my then husband all the way across the world when he was on his west-paks.
Along with what I've written here are all the unspoken/unwritten things. Yesterday it hit me just how much I already miss him. I was also reminded by so many that he is still here. Looking thru his photo albums, I see his face in my two uncles, as well as my cousin Eric. His sons share his love of sports and the outdoors. My mother and I have his way with words, My aunt Chris has his compassion, My aunt Stella and I share his love of art and photography, and finally My aunt Julie has his soft fine hair. He lives in all of us, and protects us everyday.
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