madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Remembering Grandpa Doc Change. It has been my mantra since returning from my grandfather�s funeral. It really did something to my head when I saw his body, still and strange, in a pine box that would be his resting place forever. It was almost too much for me, to see him like that. I was washed over with complete and utter grief, but it was paired with this inexplicable feeling of �shifting� somewhere deep in my soul. I knew things were going to change. Not just for my grandpa who�s spirit had left this place, or for my mother who�s grief she wore like a thousand pound black shawl around her shoulders, or for my other 5 aunts who no longer had a father, for the cousins and grandchildren and family and friends and girlfriend who now had to live a life with only memories of times spent together. But I knew things were going to change within me too. I had seen something so powerful as to move me from this stasis. Although I didn�t know what yet, I had learned something about life and love and time and it was going to change me. I spent a lot of time thinking about my grandpa while I was there and have not stopped. I learned things about him. He opened a restaurant, a nightclub, and a roustabout welding shop. He was a volunteer fireman. He was a World War II veteran. He met grandma when she was 14 and waitressing at a South Dakota truck stop and married her soon after. He loved to golf. And I always knew he was a fisherman, but digging through the boxes of pictures I found photo after photo of him holding up his catch with a giant smile on his face. I�m glad he was buried with his fishing hat and his pole, as no one else could�ve done them justice. While we were there, we drank his liquor, used his spices, and slept in his bed. There was an echo of him that rang out in everything we touched, in the pictures hanging on the walls, in the closet where his cowboy boots lay�dusty and caked with mud at the heel. It was an odd feeling, being surrounded by these artifacts that represented him but without him actually being there. It made the ache of his absence almost suffocating. I had always taken for granted the kind of man he was, because our relationship was simple. He was just my grandpa and I was his granddaughter. I didn�t spend a lot of time as a kid asking deep questions about his past or his business. There never needed to be any more instructions than how to thread a live worm on a hook. I loved him and that�s all I knew, all I cared about. My grandpa taught me how to fish, how to camp (in style of course) and how to get tickled until I peed my pants. (The latter was a lesson I could�ve lived without!) But sitting at the funeral, I heard the story of his life and it made me realize the incredible person he truly was. He was a man who lived every day of his life to the fullest. He pursued the most difficult of dreams � opening small businesses in a small town. He was daring - going downhill skiing for the first time on his 60th birthday and it cracked us all up. He never backed down from a challenge. He lived hard and fast and always remained true to himself. They played the Sinatra song �My Way� during the service. The lyrics say �Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew, When I bit off more than I could chew. But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out. I faced it all and I stood tall; And did it my way.� I felt there were no more appropriate words spoken about grandpa and the way he lived his life. And I realized at that moment, that I wanted to live that way too�the way Grandpa lived�unapologetic, without fear, always seeking out fun and family and adventure. I wanted to be that person who didn�t shy away from a challenge and when things got tough, I would be the one to stand tall and have no regrets and be proud no matter what. Most of all, I realized that I wanted to wake up 10, 20, 30 years from now and knew that I at least tried to make my dreams come true. I wanted to know that I had least given it a shot, and not just stood still and afraid to take chances while my life just passed me by. I�ve gained 10 pounds. This has been a hell of a month for me, emotionally and physically. I�ve eaten to the point of gluttony and to stuff down feelings of grief and heartache and pain. I�ve eaten like the old, 375 pound Heather used to eat � to numb and suppress. My knees hurt, my back aches, and I�m spending 10 hours a day sleeping again. It�s been really hard. And when the scale read 275.5, I was ashamed that I�ve slipped so incredibly. I�ve no longer lost 100 pounds now, and that has gnawed away my belly the way no hunger could. 99.5 doesn�t really hold the same magical triple-digit quality, now does it.? I have more to tell, but my time is up for today. 2:58 p.m. - 7/28/03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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