From the past..

I talked to a friend this week who recently lost her mom. She said that it was really strange that she can't feel her mom's presence, when after the loss of other people she loves, that feeling has been there.

I thought about it a bit, and realized that some of the people I've lost seem to stay with me in spirit, and some do not.

It led me to thinking about my grandfather, Don. When I was looking for something else on my blog this afternoon, I came across this post and felt a need to repost it. It's old... like six years or so, and I know that many of the people who read here have never seen it.

Mostly he's just really on my mind today. I have felt his presence, actually. Which may sound strange, but is true.

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Several years ago, I started interviewing my grandfather Don about his life. His wife and life partner of 55 years, my grandmother Del had just passed away, and I'd read my great-grandfather's book all the way through for the first time.

Grandad Johnson (Don's father) wrote his life story in longhand and had a book binder from Cedaredge, Colorado put it together for members of the family. I realized what a gift it was after Del died and I wanted to know more about where I came from. My family. My ancestors, you know?

I figured I'd call him every week and ask him a few questions about his life and write down the answers.

I called him a few times with that specific purpose in mind, but the conversation always drifted, and we ended up just chatting for awhile. Don loved lawyer jokes because he hated lawyers, and every time I heard a new one, I couldn't wait to call him.

He always laughed at my jokes, but he found other things funny, too. After Seattle had a major earthquake that we felt here in Portland( in, hmm, 2000?) I called him just to chat. He asked me if I had felt the quake. I had not, I was helping Lyssa wash her hair in the shower, and didn't notice the shaking.

I told him about the news item I'd heard earlier that morning. Some woman had been sitting on her sofa, lamenting all her woes, and she flung up her hands and said, "OH GOD, CAN THINGS GET ANY WORSE?!?" As she finished, a large chunk of frozen shit fell from a passing airliner and crashed through her roof into the living room and smashed her coffee table to matchwood.

When I told him that, he laughed until he cried. Every time he'd start to slow down with it, I'd think about how hard he was laughing and start laughing myself. And when I started to laugh, he started up again, too. We laughed together for quite some time.

A little after that, he had to move to assisted living. For a few months, he was in the same nursing home my grandmother lived in for so many years. Around September, my aunt finally talked him into moving closer to her. He moved to California to another assisted living center just up the street from her house.

He so enjoyed his trip to California in the front passenger seat of the car. He hadn't been out of Montrose for many years, and loved seeing all the sights between his old home and his new one. We talked about the high points of the trip several times after he moved.

Christmas of that year, the Elks lodge in Montrose, Colorado did their annual holiday visitation of members who were in nursing homes.

When they showed up at the San Juan Care Center, the lady behind the desk said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Johnson is no longer with us."

A week or so later, the sympathy cards started arriving at my aunt's and at my mom's house. Evidently the Elks interpreted his westward move as one that went a different direction.

When Don found out, he once again laughed until he cried. He really enjoyed reading all the sympathy cards, and chatted by phone with many old friends who had sent them.

I thought it was hysterically funny, but it sort of bothered my mom. She has a sense of humor, but it's not really much like mine.
That's why I never shared this last one with her.

When Del passed away, she was cremated. Her ashes were stored in the funeral home in Colorado until a decision was made as to their eventual resting place.

Don passed away peacefully in his sleep on March 10th, 2001. The attendant checked on him at eleven PM and found him sleeping. When they checked on him again at midnight, he had left the earth.

He had said long before that he wished to be cremated, too. So he was, according to his wishes. The decision was made between my mom and my aunt to scatter the ashes of both grandparents at the location of their first date.

My aunt and her hubby packed up Don's ashes and drove to Colorado, where they met up with my mom and dad. Then, they drove up to Black Canyon

Black Canyon is now a national monument, ( It was just a nice place for a picnic when my grandparents had their first date... with a chaperone!! They were both in their 20's!) and they probably have rules about things like scattering ashes. My family took care of that by just going and doing it and not asking permission.

I could not afford the trip to Colorado, but really, they are still in my heart, (always so) and I wasn't sad.

In fact, during the hour I knew they were scattering the ashes, I thought of something and laughed 'til I cried.

I know Don would have appreciated the humor, too.

He took his last trip to California in the front seat of my aunt's car.

And rode back to Colorado in the trunk.