Good Bye Grand-Dad.

I should have posted this so long ago, and I didn't. I was just barely getting over the death of my Grandmother (mom's mom) when my Grand-Dad (dad's dad) passed away. It was just before Christmas and I wasn't able to make it to the funeral. I will forever regret the years that passed before he died and I did not go to visit him.

My Grand dad, Robert Bringhurst, was an amazing man and I wish I had known him better. Some of my favorite memories are of trips to Yellowstone (I hated the park, loved being with him and Grandma), his whistle, the white tire swing in backyard of the house in Springville, Family reunions and his B.S sessions with his brothers and the way he loved my Grandmother. I remember standing in their kitchen just a few years ago and outwardly blushing because of the way they were flirting with each other. After so many years together, they still acted like boyfriend and girlfriend.

I don't know much about his early life, but I know that he was a dedicated and well loved brother and friend. He could tell a joke better than anyone and spoof you with a poker straight face. He served his country during WWII and remained active in the Army for many years to come. He was handsome and his smile that could light up a room has been matched only by that of his son's, my father.
It is through my father that I will remember his father. My dad has his laugh, his smile and his eyes. The Bringhurst Blues. Perhaps the loss of my grand dad was easier to take than the loss of my grandmother because there is still a part of him that is very much alive. Every time I hear my dad laugh, I hear my grand dad. Every time I see him screw up his face in concentration, I see my grand dad in those deep creases.
Although he has never said so out loud, I know my dad has perhaps wondered if he was enough of a son and enough of a man. Grandad was long on laughter, short on too much praise.
I can say this though; my dad has become every bit as much of a man as his father was. His smile is genuine and his love for his family is what drives him to be a better man. He is a better grandfather than he was father, and I now see him love my mother more deeply which is a testimant to his dedication to become better than he was before.
I miss my Grandad and regret the time that I was "too busy" to visit or call. He spent two years in and out of nursing homes before he died. Alzheimers took over his mind and left him lonely and afraid. Hardly the ending that a man of his nature deserved. He loved his wife dearly all their marriage and I never once heard him utter a cross word to her or about her. It seems too cruel to think that a life spent devoted to each other should have to end with him not even recognizing her most days.
I spoke with my grandmother the other day, and as I listened to her voice a sad realization came over me. It won't be long before she joins him. She did not know my voice, where 2 months earlier she had joked and called me a little shit for not calling more often. She is tired and sad, her easy laugh was not there and I hurt to not be able to be near her.
Still, I am grateful for my Grandparents and the lives they lived. I am grateful for all that they taught my parents that was in turn passed to me. I was fortunate to have known my grand dad, to have been able to make him laugh some times and to have inherited his eyes. More than anything, I am grateful that he lives on in my Dad; and that because of this, I don't have to say good bye just yet.