Remembering Grampa
December 06
Who would have thought the colors arching over the hill would become such a strong remembrance of you.
TPM you were known by some, Dad or Tom by others, Grampa to me.
What memories I hold of the warm home in Conway where us grandkids were always welcome. We were free to explore wherever we pleased- the creek at the bottom of the hill, the nooks and crannies of every room, the sinking red shed, and the infamous sliding hill of the Boyden’s farm.
And who can forget the slide shows in the basement, swimming at Conway pool, and Gramma’s cookie jar?
And I can still picture you, Grampa, sitting in your brown recliner by the TV yelling at the ball players who can’t play the game right, or calling the President a thing or two. And your laugh. Oh, your laugh still rings blissfully through my ears.
Sometimes I lie in bed at night and relive these memories as if they happened just yesterday. I swear I remember every detail- the green shag rug, your turtle pill holder, the walking canes hanging in the garage, the lounge chair with wheels on it, Gramma’s tossed salad and your perfectly sliced roast beef with gravy.
And, of course, your many photographs you so lovingly arranged in albums including those of the rainbows behind your home in Conway.
The day you passed on, I was blessed to see the colors of a rainbow spread in front of me. Before I received the inevitable phone call, I knew from the colored arc your time had come for you pass on to heaven.
Many years have passed since you have been looking down on us from above. I now have a child of my own, a husband and a home. I think of you often and wonder what you would have said about this situation or that situation, what you would think of our current president, and what your reaction would have been to the Red Sox finally winning the World Series.
But what I hold most dear are the memories I hold tightly to my heart of the days we spent together here on Earth. Not everyone can say they were blessed to have such a wonderful and wise Grampa as you, but joyfully I can.
I love you.
Michelle
5 comments:
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble.
Merci, Michelle.
Laura I know exactly how you feel. I was only 10 I think when Grandpa passed away and it wasn't until a couple years ago or so that I realized how much I missed out on and how much I wish that I knew him better. What really gets me is when I hear Danny Boy.
When my father was the age I am now, I was eleven and Claire ws nine. I'd always been a the-world-revolves-around-me kid, but it was about to get much worse. It's hard for me to remember now the crap I put my father through when he was no longer young. No wonder he was cranky.
Happily, he really enjoyed his 60s and 70s and, especially, his grandchildren, including you guys, though you may not remember it well.
I definetly remember it well. I have a lot of fond memories, I just wish I had more.
Sadly, that's the nature of losing a grandparent. I felt that way about losing my grandparents, even though I was older by the time they went.
And I would have liked more time with Grampa Murphy, too.
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