Grandpa died today.
At about 2:30 this morning, my sweet grandfather finished his race. He'd fought the good fight and come out on top. And now, gathered in the mighty arms of the Savior, as well as other loved ones and friends, he enjoys the fruits of a life well lived.
Grandpa was born in December 1929. This was at the very beginning of the Great Depression. Grandpa always asserted that his arrival had nothing to do with the economy... We know that's right. Grandpa never really ever had much of an impact on the economy... ;-)
His family (which included nine children) lived in two World War I army surplus tents. His father was a kind of handyman - like most Cobabe men, he finds himself able to just about anything, and usually ends up having to - and plasterer. They had a small farm in Los Angeles County - I think it was in El Segundo, but it may have been Manhattan Beach. At any rate, grandpa said that they could see the Los Angeles City Building from his house. The idea of anyone seeing that far in today's world of smog and pollution is amazing, besides the fact that that building is now surrounded by so many other tall buildings you almost can't see it until you're right on it. Plus, the idea of anyone farming anything in that area is amazing, too. The world surely has changed so much, even in grandpa's lifetime...
He never spoke about it, but I wonder if growing up as he did helped to form his ideas about possessions. He never really cared to have the biggest or best or fanciest of anything. He also never cared much about how much was in his bank account. Oh, he wanted to have enough, sufficient for the needs of his large family. But it was never a race for him to accumulate more, and he surely never was greedy or lustful for money. I asked him once why he never locked his front door when he went to bed, why he often left the door standing wide open, even when no one was home. Wasn't he worried about someone coming in and taking his things? He wasn't. He said - if they need it more than I do, they're welcome to it. That thought continues to blow me away. Imagine if everyone thought like that...
He loved to dance. I'm not sure why this didn't get passed on to me, his namesake, but it didn't. He also loved to sing and to ham it up (read: act). He loved a good joke but could hardly remember any... Those he did remember he could never get through without laughing... His laugh is absolutely infectious, like sunshine washing over your body. He laughed from his toes and with his whole body, and his smile would light up his face and warm your soul. He was so real, so genuine and loving... You couldn't help but feel that you were his best friend. Because you were.
Well, actually I was... ;-)
He had nine children himself, he and my grandmother. Together they had mansions and shacks, lived near the beach and in mountain retreats, and through it all walked hand in hand as equal partners and lovers. They were married when grandpa was 18 and grandma was 16. They had been married for 62 years last November. He made mistakes when it came to his family, but they were mistakes that stemmed from the largeness of his heart, rather than any kind of evil or malicious intent, as other men of lesser degree might do. He just loved his family and honestly tried to do the best he could. There were hard things he had to deal with, things that no one should have to deal with. And he did his best, often times stepping out into the darkness, not knowing what would happen, but hoping for the best. If forgiveness is required for that, I hope that I may be forgiven as well, because I've had to do that on several occasions myself.
He worked with his brothers. I am not sure how this was done, but it was. He was proud of his work, proud of his ability to provide for his family and do honest, good work. I think he was most proud of helping to work on the Los Angeles Temple. Later he would work in the Temple, knowing that he had been a part of seeing it completed. He told me once he climbed up the scaffolding that was on the steeple and looking out to the ocean. In my mind's eye, I can see him standing up there, young and strong, wind in his hair and sun in his face. He would have been about my age at that time...
I wish I could write more about how it felt just to be around grandpa. He made everyone feel amazing. You knew you were loved. He was so full of love and peace and joy - absolute joy. His thoughts and ideas were intelligent, but somehow very child-like and simple. He was easy to understand and you knew that you were heard and respected when you spoke to him. While working, I would sometimes take a break and come and sit by him. He never said - you lazy good-for-nothing! Get back to work! He always, ALWAYS said - yeah, why don't you take a break for a little while. Come and sit and talk with me. We'd talk for a while and then I'd get back to work, my body refreshed, but more importantly, my heart light and full of peace.
I know I shared him with many other people - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, friends, neighbors, etc - and I know that you all felt like you were special and important to him. But I never felt like his attention and love were divided or conditional. He loved me, and I knew it. I could see it shining in his eyes.
His eyes - twinking with mirth, filled with tears, closed in prayer, watching the faces of my own children... Always a kind of benevolent blessing...
And now his eyes view the eyes of the Master.
I think he'll be surprised at how familiar they seem, how much like his own.
I love you, grandpa. I miss you already. I can't wait (!) to hug you again, but I can feel your arms around me now, your mighty arms... Like the arms of the Master Himself...
At about 2:30 this morning, my sweet grandfather finished his race. He'd fought the good fight and come out on top. And now, gathered in the mighty arms of the Savior, as well as other loved ones and friends, he enjoys the fruits of a life well lived.
Grandpa was born in December 1929. This was at the very beginning of the Great Depression. Grandpa always asserted that his arrival had nothing to do with the economy... We know that's right. Grandpa never really ever had much of an impact on the economy... ;-)
His family (which included nine children) lived in two World War I army surplus tents. His father was a kind of handyman - like most Cobabe men, he finds himself able to just about anything, and usually ends up having to - and plasterer. They had a small farm in Los Angeles County - I think it was in El Segundo, but it may have been Manhattan Beach. At any rate, grandpa said that they could see the Los Angeles City Building from his house. The idea of anyone seeing that far in today's world of smog and pollution is amazing, besides the fact that that building is now surrounded by so many other tall buildings you almost can't see it until you're right on it. Plus, the idea of anyone farming anything in that area is amazing, too. The world surely has changed so much, even in grandpa's lifetime...
He never spoke about it, but I wonder if growing up as he did helped to form his ideas about possessions. He never really cared to have the biggest or best or fanciest of anything. He also never cared much about how much was in his bank account. Oh, he wanted to have enough, sufficient for the needs of his large family. But it was never a race for him to accumulate more, and he surely never was greedy or lustful for money. I asked him once why he never locked his front door when he went to bed, why he often left the door standing wide open, even when no one was home. Wasn't he worried about someone coming in and taking his things? He wasn't. He said - if they need it more than I do, they're welcome to it. That thought continues to blow me away. Imagine if everyone thought like that...
He loved to dance. I'm not sure why this didn't get passed on to me, his namesake, but it didn't. He also loved to sing and to ham it up (read: act). He loved a good joke but could hardly remember any... Those he did remember he could never get through without laughing... His laugh is absolutely infectious, like sunshine washing over your body. He laughed from his toes and with his whole body, and his smile would light up his face and warm your soul. He was so real, so genuine and loving... You couldn't help but feel that you were his best friend. Because you were.
Well, actually I was... ;-)
He had nine children himself, he and my grandmother. Together they had mansions and shacks, lived near the beach and in mountain retreats, and through it all walked hand in hand as equal partners and lovers. They were married when grandpa was 18 and grandma was 16. They had been married for 62 years last November. He made mistakes when it came to his family, but they were mistakes that stemmed from the largeness of his heart, rather than any kind of evil or malicious intent, as other men of lesser degree might do. He just loved his family and honestly tried to do the best he could. There were hard things he had to deal with, things that no one should have to deal with. And he did his best, often times stepping out into the darkness, not knowing what would happen, but hoping for the best. If forgiveness is required for that, I hope that I may be forgiven as well, because I've had to do that on several occasions myself.
He worked with his brothers. I am not sure how this was done, but it was. He was proud of his work, proud of his ability to provide for his family and do honest, good work. I think he was most proud of helping to work on the Los Angeles Temple. Later he would work in the Temple, knowing that he had been a part of seeing it completed. He told me once he climbed up the scaffolding that was on the steeple and looking out to the ocean. In my mind's eye, I can see him standing up there, young and strong, wind in his hair and sun in his face. He would have been about my age at that time...
I wish I could write more about how it felt just to be around grandpa. He made everyone feel amazing. You knew you were loved. He was so full of love and peace and joy - absolute joy. His thoughts and ideas were intelligent, but somehow very child-like and simple. He was easy to understand and you knew that you were heard and respected when you spoke to him. While working, I would sometimes take a break and come and sit by him. He never said - you lazy good-for-nothing! Get back to work! He always, ALWAYS said - yeah, why don't you take a break for a little while. Come and sit and talk with me. We'd talk for a while and then I'd get back to work, my body refreshed, but more importantly, my heart light and full of peace.
I know I shared him with many other people - children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, friends, neighbors, etc - and I know that you all felt like you were special and important to him. But I never felt like his attention and love were divided or conditional. He loved me, and I knew it. I could see it shining in his eyes.
His eyes - twinking with mirth, filled with tears, closed in prayer, watching the faces of my own children... Always a kind of benevolent blessing...
And now his eyes view the eyes of the Master.
I think he'll be surprised at how familiar they seem, how much like his own.
I love you, grandpa. I miss you already. I can't wait (!) to hug you again, but I can feel your arms around me now, your mighty arms... Like the arms of the Master Himself...
Comments