losing a grandpa

The death of a loved one is something that you never want to think about. But you know you do. When you awake suddenly from a terrible dream where someone close to you has died, you think about it and wonder how you’d really react. When you hear about a tragic accident on the news, you think of the poor family. The people left behind to pick up the pieces and move on with their lives. You wonder what normal will look like for them now. You know you think about it. At least I know I do.

See, I’ve been extremely blessed in my 29 years. The only death I’ve experienced was that of my Grandma Barrow. I was only 5 years old then. I have exactly 3 memories of the entire experience: sitting on the toy box in my darkened bedroom getting dressed … the only light that illuminated my room was that from the kitchen, where my parents and sister were eating breakfast … we were up early that morning, getting read for the long drive from Beaumont to Pittsburgh … I remember my cousin Deborah crying at the funeral … I didn’t understand why she was so sad … I remember peering over the edge of the casket at my grandma and commenting (probably loudly) that she didn’t look normal. Too much makeup.

That’s it. Other than the death of some fish and 2 beloved family dogs, I’ve been spared the late night phone calls that everyone dreads. The ones that start out with “I have some sad news.” I’ve been spared the sadness that rolls in like a dense fog. Until today.

My Grandpa Jake lost his struggle with Alzheimer’s last night. Really, it’s a blessing. He had been slipping mentally for many years and I know that he didn’t remember me anymore and didn’t know that I’m pregnant with his 7th great grandchild. I hope he’s with my Grandma Barrow right now and that he remembers everything about his 95 years.

Carlton W. Barrow was such a kindhearted grandpa. My sister and I only saw him a couple of times a year because we always lived in Texas and he always lived in Pittsburgh, so I don’t have tons and tons of memories with him, but the ones I do have are sweet. I knew he loved us and delighted in us. He would call every Sunday afternoon and if one of us answered the phone he would do his best to find out what was going on in our young lives, even though the generational gap was wide. When he visited, he’d always slip a $20 bill into our hands and tell us to go have some fun. He always sent holiday and birthday cards and my favorite memory of those will be the way he always put an exclamation point after your name. Tammy! Have a happy birthday! Love, Grandpa Jake

He loved a good home cooked meal and I think dessert was his favorite course. My dad and I both probably got our love of sweets from the Barrow side of the family. He enjoyed golf and nice dinners at the country club. He always drove a Lincoln Town Car. Usually a white one. And he always tucked in his shirt.

Perhaps the best thing about my grandpa was his never-ending generosity. You see, he and my grandma paid to put me through college. When my grandma died, money was set aside for each of us to go to college. By the time I was 18, there was enough in my fund to allow me four years at Texas A&M. I am eternally grateful that I was given the gift of higher education with no debt attached. I think that’s a legacy he can be proud of.

So, Grandpa Jake, I’m sorry that I can’t make it to your funeral because I can’t travel at 35 weeks pregnant, but I thank you for being the grandpa that you were to me.

Tonight I’ll hug Kris a little tighter, pat my squirming belly a little more often and begin to push through the dense fog of sadness knowing that you lived a wonderful life, full of love and happiness. I’ll think of you when I make Grandma Barrow’s cherry pie and when I see my dad hold Kaylee for the first time. Give Grandma Barrow a hug for me. I’ll take comfort in knowing that now Kaylee has one more guardian angel looking out for her from above.