My grandfather passed away on March 11, 2010...but he didn't really, he died. His last heartbeat took place in a stuffy, overly strict ICU unit of Culpeper Regional Hospital. It was bizarre...I had to wear a mask and gloves, I couldn't even comfort him with human touch. There was no passing...or maybe the soul flies, takes a leap of faith out into exposure after death...but I didn't see it. Maybe his soul transcended all petty humanness only to sit on the top of the universe to observe us all...and most importantly to learn the truth of things he couldn't have known while alive. He didn't even look like himself at all and it begged the question, "life how can you be so cruel?"
I cherish a few great, rich memories of my grandfather, who was all too passionate for his own good. My favorite one, however, was back when I was still in high school, a very turbulent time in my life. I borrowed one of my mother's dresses to wear to an awards ceremony. He always attended those. When he arrived and saw what I was wearing, he was so astonished by how beautiful I looked that he grabbed me right out of conversation and kissed my hand and hugged me. I was always guaranteed a concrete hug from this hardworking man...and it was one of the few things I truly depended on in this world.
Although he didn't really have a choice, I am honored that he trusted his most vulnerable of life states to me, to my eyes. It forced me to remember his beauty rather than his disease. I was forced to remember the blossoms of his generosity, the bright of his eyes, and the incredible strength of his embrace. I couldn't hear him very well and I've never wished more than I do now that I had asked, "What?"
I miss him terribly. I am plagued with the familiar, "I wish I could have, would have, should have..." but I am blessed to have been touched by such a man...a man whose passion clearly boils in my own veins. I hope that he watches over me now and walks beside me in my most troubling of moments. One of the last things I heard from him, "You've always been so smart. Camillie, I am so proud of you." His funeral is coming up on March 30, 2010. Maybe when I see him again, I'll have some wisdom to impart.
Rest in Peace doesn't even say it all....
I cherish a few great, rich memories of my grandfather, who was all too passionate for his own good. My favorite one, however, was back when I was still in high school, a very turbulent time in my life. I borrowed one of my mother's dresses to wear to an awards ceremony. He always attended those. When he arrived and saw what I was wearing, he was so astonished by how beautiful I looked that he grabbed me right out of conversation and kissed my hand and hugged me. I was always guaranteed a concrete hug from this hardworking man...and it was one of the few things I truly depended on in this world.
Although he didn't really have a choice, I am honored that he trusted his most vulnerable of life states to me, to my eyes. It forced me to remember his beauty rather than his disease. I was forced to remember the blossoms of his generosity, the bright of his eyes, and the incredible strength of his embrace. I couldn't hear him very well and I've never wished more than I do now that I had asked, "What?"
I miss him terribly. I am plagued with the familiar, "I wish I could have, would have, should have..." but I am blessed to have been touched by such a man...a man whose passion clearly boils in my own veins. I hope that he watches over me now and walks beside me in my most troubling of moments. One of the last things I heard from him, "You've always been so smart. Camillie, I am so proud of you." His funeral is coming up on March 30, 2010. Maybe when I see him again, I'll have some wisdom to impart.
Rest in Peace doesn't even say it all....
Glenn Keniston Blanchard 11/11/1926-3/11/2010
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