Frank’s Gift
A blustery overcast spring day, the absence of the sun seemed to make the dreaded tomorrow just a little harder to imagine. Although different for both of us, we both acted as if something was off. Frustration at things not being the way we wanted them to be. The last thing my grandson Wyatt wanted was for me to be at his house while everyone else was out with agendas of their own. For goodness sake, he’ll be twelve this summer, so while he was at it, he might as well give me some attitude.
His mom, my daughter Megan, was out showing houses while his dad was also working. It was my job last evening to do the activity shuffle with the others. Although he is getting to that age, his brash defiance earned him a ‘sit out’ while I ran one of them two miles away. The last thing I needed on the eve of Frank’s third birthday since his death, was discourse. I cried on the way back to the house, thinking of the chances of Wyatt growing up and away while adopting teenage arrogance. I sat behind the steering wheel and wished Frank could be here to help me – and Wyatt.
His attitude was out of character. But then again, so was my short patience. When I got to the house, instead of letting him stew, I said “Let’s take a ride.” I figured if I got him in the car, maybe I had a chance to get him to talk. Complete with the tone, he grumbled “Fine. I just want to get out of this house.”
When we got in the car, he moaned, “Where are we going?” I told him “Wherever you want, but it is Papa’s birthday tomorrow. Would you mind going out to the cemetery with me?”
He answered with no rebuttal, “Yea, that’s good.”
On the way, although I’d never thought of it until that moment, I told him my grandfather had died when I was nine also. “Just like you, I had a special bond with my grandpa. After he died, I used to go to the cemetery a lot with my grandma. After I could drive, sometimes I would go there by myself when life was hard.” Wyatt listened.
“As a matter of fact, when I found out I was pregnant with your mom, I left the doctor’s office and drove straight out to the cemetery. That was fifteen years after he died, but I sat on the ground by his grave and told Grandpa all about it anyway. There are no years in heaven. Grandpa keeps an eye on me so it seemed like the best thing to do.”
Wyatt never perceived Frank as the man most of us did. He couldn’t comprehend the legacy of Pizza Hut. Frank was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s the month of Wyatt’s birth. But by the time Frank was in skilled care, Wyatt frequently asked to go with me to the nursing home. They would sit, Frank in his wheelchair and Wyatt in a chair pulled close, holding hands while Wyatt watched TV. The sight always mesmerized me. This was life.
Wyatt only knew him as Papa. The funny man that touched his heart so deeply it will never be forgotten. What had slipped my mind was how we individually deal with grief in our own way. Going to the cemetery as a family doesn’t always let us swirl in our specific personal connections. We need some private time to recall the relationship.
By then, we had arrived at the grave site. The wind was cold, but it didn’t deter Wyatt. We went to his grave and said a prayer. We both talked to Frank aloud. Wyatt checked on the golf tee he had left by his stone and said, I need to bring him a golf ball. Before we left Wyatt wanted to show me where his friend’s dad was buried that passed this winter. I watched as he paid his respects. He was processing.
When we got in the car, I had an entirely different young man. I asked, “You feel good don’t you?” He looked surprised and said “Yes.” He was smiling again. I told him, “I know. The same thing used to happen to me, every-single-time I went to visit my Grandpa. And I can’t explain it, other than I think they know you made time for them and you still need them even if they are in heaven.”
Death is a part of life. We don’t deal with it as we have in the past. People think that illness and death are just too ugly and painful, so they miss the opportunity to process it, in order for some sort of recovery. They choose to run from it. They take grief and put it away in a box, thinking it will just disappear if it is ignored. Some have even thought that the absence of funerals is the way to deal with loss. In reality, it has the opposite effect.
When we fail to embrace all the good our loved ones have introduced us to during their time on earth, we break the circle. In order to realize that life is a gift, we must respect and honor them in death. Even if that requires us to make the uncomfortable, comfortable.
Frank gave me a gift yesterday evening. I picked up a sulking pre-teen and he returned to me the loving grandson I know. We ended up going to dinner and having a date night – and one of the best ever.
Last week was Frank’s birthday. In the process of wishing him a happy heavenly birthday, I think his wish would be to turn the tables. I think he would ask of us, embrace the memories of joy and laughter. But more importantly, I bet he would stand on the stage of life and say, ‘Take time to remember your loved ones. Laugh, that’s what they would like you to do. Heaven isn’t far and they’re watching.’
Happy Birthday Frank.
Love forever and always,
Janie
