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Grandpa Claude
Sitting on the cool grass in the front yard is where
we spent many muggy, warm summer evenings. A short,
white fence lined the rose garden on the north side of
the house. The sun set behind us and we could watch
the moon rise over the mountains, and the stars grow
bright in the aging evening.
Behind me was a tall, old home of seasoned dark, bare
wood. The windows were open and the front door ajar so
whatever breeze came from the northwest could pass
through the house. The neighborhood was in an old part
of town that, in later years, reminded me of the
little town in the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird" where
Atticus, and his children Jem and Scout lived. The
homes were on larger lots than are typical nowadays,
with established gardens and huge shade trees.
It was my grandparents' place and my aunt and uncle,
cousins, my parents, my brother and me would spend
many evenings visiting with my Grandma and Grandpa.
My grandfather was tall and thin, with a soft smile
and a quiet nature. He had worked in the coal mines
when he was a young husband, and father to two
children. They lived in the Ozark mountains of
Illinois, leading a hard-scrabble subsistence. When my
mother and uncle were in their early teens, Grandpa
moved the family to California. Grandpa got a job with
the government, as a landscaper. And Grandma got a job
working in an industrial laundry, 6 days a week, 10
hours a day.
My mother met my dad in high-school, joined in wedlock
shortly after they both graduated, and brought
together their two families. I was fortunate to have
both sets of grandparents living in the same town,
just miles from my home in a nearby city. I remember
visits with my Grandpa Claude as sunny moments in my
life. Each planned get-together was a
"look-forward-to" event.
I must have liked riding high on his shoulders, seeing
the world from an adult's perspective because I recall
many times Grandpa would lift me up and walk me
around, and both of us would be laughing.
My grandfather was a stern disciplinarian and I was on
my best behavior when I spent the weekends with
Grandpa and Grandma. Though he was strict, he was fair
and he taught me a lot about respect. He was a
marvelous example of what a good man could be. We was
deeply religious and instilled in me a reverence for
God and His teachings.
In my mind's eye I can remember not only sights and
sounds, but smells--a nice advantage to life from my
"mind's eye" being able to experience all of the
senses. The house was sparsely furnished, but
spotlessly clean and bright. Grandma was a wonderful
cook and the house was often filled with the most
scrumptious smells of excellent meals and exquisite
desserts. And when Grandpa wasn't home, the fragrance
of his after-shave drifted in the hallway and I found
it comforting.
When Grandpa was in his late 50's he was diagnosed
with Lou Gehrig's Disease. His diagnoses was
devastating news to the entire family. As his
condition deteriorated it became more difficult for
Grandpa to get out and about. One Christmas Eve I
recall that he took his meal in a separate room from
the rest of the family. He was having trouble
swallowing and he didn't want to disturb everyone
else's meal. Eating was a painful process for him and
he often could not eat without choking or losing part
of his meal.
Eventually he lost the ability to speak, then to walk,
as his body gave way to the disease. And through it
all, he was concerned more with the reactions and
feelings of others to his condition, than he was of
his own predicament. It is difficult for me to fathom
the strength it took him to be so
self-sacrificing--while all the while knowing and
feeling his body was betraying him and shutting down.
His faith in the Lord surely gave him strength to rise
above his physical suffering, for until he passed on,
his concern was greater for those he loved, than for
himself.
Copyright 2005 by Kathy Anne Harris
kathyanneharris@spirit-soul.com |
