At the tail end of January, I received an early morning phone call from my mother. I have not come to expect good news when my mom chooses to phone before the 8 o'clock hour and this was no exception. It turns out that, at the very fortunate age of 27, I had lost my first grandparent. My dad's father, Grandpa Gerald, passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of 85. His was a life well lived, full of good food, laughter, hard work, love of family and lots of baseball. It's an incredible thing to reflect on the life of someone who played such a strong roll in forming your identity and shaping the way you think about the world. I have been incredibly blessed to be the granddaughter of Gerald Rambow.
The services were equally wonderful and difficult. I am always grateful for the opportunity to spend time with my extended relatives as the occurrences seem to get fewer and fewer the more years we spend away from Minnesota. The amount of support we received was overwhelming and yet not unexpected in the same rite (small town living certainly has its advantages despite the trouble of having to drive 45 minutes to the nearest Target).
The most difficult part, of course was watching my father deal with the passing of his. My dad displayed his normal chipper 'running-for-mayor' demeanor. Throughout most of the memories he shared at the funeral, he kept his composure and a smile on his face. But in the quiet moments, the moments we allowed ourselves to remember the man who could remind you that you had to get your bunt down with a twinkle in his eye and who was buried in the suit he purchased for your wedding, those were the moments I was reminded of the precious gift of life.
I was lucky to be born the granddaughter of a man who won't be remembered in many record books. He didn't make millions of dollars, play professional sports, win the Nobel Prize or even run for mayor. Instead, he raised a family with my grandmother, ran a grocery store and then a county park. Focused on making memories and supporting his grandchildren and always treating others the right way. He was a man of character in a world that lacked it and I will miss him always.
This past weekend Mike and I traveled to see my sister's family in South Dakota. My baby niece, Lyla is now almost 10 pounds, up from 1# 6 oz. at birth. We just found out she can slowly be weened off her feeding tube and oxygen. She is a darling girl, full of smiles, and wouldn't you know it, a twinkle in her eye. My grandpa Gerald was only 2# at birth and had to be kept alive by placing old Montgomery Ward catalogs in the oven and switching them halfway through the night. Ours is a resilient and incredibly fortunate family. And I am grateful.
1 comment:
Good stuff deer!
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