For Granddaddy

For many years now I've said that the only two normal people in my entire family were me and my grandfather. Sadly, we are now left with only one 'normal' person in the family because my grandfather passed away in his sleep this past Saturday. The reality of his passing still has not completely set in and I'm not sure when it will. What I do know is that it's going to hit me like a freight train once I finally accept the fact that I'll never see him again. Throughout so much of my life, either through poetry or prose, writing has been my therapy, so I could not think of anything better that I could do to ward off the impending pain I'll feel when his passing actually settles in for me. So faithful readers, though this post is mainly to serve as my therapy I do hope if you decide to read any further that you can relate to some of it as we've all had people pass on that we were close to. So allow me to tell you a bit about the man that was my grandfather...

I'll begin with a brief synopsis of his life,

He was born on June 11, 1919, and to keep you from doing the math he had just celebrated his 91st birthday a little over two weeks ago. He met my grandmother, who is survived by him, when he was in his mid twenties. He served 25 years in the Air Force, and spent the the large majority of his life living in Warner Robins, Georgia. My grandmother and him had 2 children, a boy and a girl. Throughout most of his life he was healthy, even right up until the night of his peaceful passing. Even at 91 he was still riding his stationary bike a couple of miles each day. If I were to narrow down the two real passions in his life it was that he was an incredibly vovarious reader and a Civil War enthusiast.

I'll now tell you about the man I knew and loved,

My grandfather, like all the Styron men I suppose, was incredibly complicated to really get to know and understand. Throughout my childhood, which was less than great, there were many occasions that my sister and I would have gone hungry and/or homeless had it not been for my grandfather's financial support. He never asked for a thank you, and to my knowledge never asked for any of the money to be returned. He lived in Greenville, NC during that part of my childhood, and some of my fondest memories of our times together were when I would cut his grass. He paid me $5 to cut the front and $6 to cut the back (cause as he said, "It's a little bigger, don't ya think"). I felt richer than Bill Gates when he forked over the $11. Every 2-3 weeks he would come pick me up and we would go get our haircut together, and I just thought this was the coolest thing.

He had a fantastically dry, but refined sense of humor. As both he and I got on in years some of my greatest life's joy came from making him laugh non-stop everytime we were able to visit. He was always so concerned about the well being of those around him, and with always wanting to make sure that everyone had what they needed. One of his most annoying habits each time I visited his house was him asking me literally every 15 minutes if I "had gotten enough to eat" or to tell me for the 20th time in 4 hours where all the food was in the house, and that I should feel free to help myself. Though this used to annoy the hell out me, there is not much I wouldn't give to hear him say those things one more time. As I prepare to drive down tomorrow for the funeral, I cannot help but think of the emptiness I will feel upon entering his house. Though my grandmother and the rest of the family will be there, it will simply be heartbreaking not to see him come walking up to give me a hug with that big grin on his face while he says, "Hah hah, there's my boy!".

When I was around 12 or 13 he started affectionately calling me 'puscle (pus-sel) gut'. A phrase I think he made up for me, because he would often take me to an old 'all you can eat' restaurant that is no longer in Greenville and I would seriously eat 8 to 11 plates of food. I'll always remember how much he enjoyed seeing his loved ones eat. I think this was due to his being so poor growing up, and it gave him so much pride to be able to provide so much to his family. I'm rambling at this point, so I'll just say that like most things in life it is the little details you recall about a person when they are no longer with us. Like how my grandfather always had to take off his glasses before he would have his picture taken, the sound of his laugh, the way he kind of dragged his feet when he walked with one foot pointed slightly in, the way he would turn down his hearing aids later in life so he wouldn't have to hear my grandmother yelling for him to do the dishes or take out the trash, or how he claimed to have never had a headache in his entire life. I will miss all that and so much more.

I don't want to end this by pretending that my grandfather was perfect, again most of the Styron men are not, but I do know that to me he was loving and caring. Did he make some mistakes along the way? Sure he did. He left my grandmother for several years, before finally returning to her and there was probably a part of his life when he drank too much. We all make mistakes in life, and one of the many lessons I learned from my grandfather is that it is never too late to gain redemption for yourself and forgiveness from others. The goodness of the man very much outweighed the mistakes he made in life, and I will forever miss and love him. He was my granddaddy.