Grampy is cozy and safe now in a nice wooden box in a velvet bag behind some books on our bookcase. He's next to mama where he belongs. We aren't freaked out by having their ashes in our home. We find it oddly comforting to have them close. For so long we worried about him living alone. Is he climbing up that ladder to pick tangerines out of the tree in his back yard? Is he threatening the Mobile Home Park Manager again, cussing at her and waving his ancient (albeit disabled) Civil War pistol in the air? Did he ride his scooter across the street to Target and forget to fully charge the battery? Nowadays, along with Grampy, Mike and I can finally rest in peace at night.
Now that some time has passed and we are used to the new "normal" and the void has more or less closed that was created with his passing, I am pondering the treasures he left behind, his legacy to me, the tangible lessons I gleaned from my grizzled old crotchety father in law.
1. All you really need in life is a dog and a comfortable chair.
Grampy did not hanker after many material possessions. His furniture was purchased in 1950, along with most of his clothes. His favorite restaurant was Wienerschnitzel and His little dog Mugsy was the chili on his hot dog. Truth be told, he loved that dog more than he liked most humans. And though his recliner was lumpy in all the wrong places, there was nowhere else he and Mugsy would rather sit. With a bowl of popcorn on his lap and a good Western on TV, he was wealthier than most folks with 5 times his bank account.
2. Do not bear the weight of everyone else's expectations and judgements.
Grampy didn't give a rat's patootie about people's opinion of him. Yes he was a narrow minded bigot who pissed off durn near everyone he ever came in contact with, but he never pretended to be otherwise and never lost any sleep at night worrying over what people thought of him.
3. Take care of your family.
When times were tough and push came to shove, Grampy was always there to help us out. He was never openly proud of his kids or wasted time in praising them. He was irritated by most of his family members and had no reservations about vocalizing his discontent and pointing out our shortcomings, but he had no problem either offering help when help was really needed.
4. If you can't be a good example then at least be a horrible warning.
God love him. For the most part he was a horrible warning...and by God's grace my husband Mike fell far from that family tree. Mike learned how to parent by pretty much doing the opposite of what Grampy did as a dad. You can't choose your parents, but you CAN choose for yourself HOW to parent. (That's good, write that down)
5. It's never too late...keep the faith
Since 1975 Mike and I (and others) have, through various ways, shared Jesus with his dad and tried to be examples (albeit poorly) of Christian love. Tex was about as contrary and unresponsive to the gospel message as they come. He saw all Christians as bible-thumping hypocrites and the door to his heart seemed to be frozen shut. One night, about a year before he died, during a very lucid evening visit, Grampy broke down in tears and prayed with Mike to receive Christ. Mike said that Grampy knew exactly what he was doing and we both cried like babies when Mike came home and told me about it. Keep the faith. Persevere in prayer. God is faithful. We prayed for 40 years for that man's soul, as did all of our children and grandchildren every night when they said their prayers. "The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." James 5:16
6. Live Debt-free
Grampy never had a checking account until his last couple years when he needed Mike to pay his bills and we opened one up for him. Credit card? He just scoffed at the idea.
They say that time softens and alters the memories of our loved ones. That we remember them with more grace and humor than reality warrants...I am waiting for that day but in the meantime I'll go out on a high note. Grampy was a bad tempered, foul-mouthed, crusty old pirate. But he was our crusty old pirate and we loved him. Sometimes he cracked just a bit and a softness leaked out of his hard exterior and he would hug me and tell me he loved me. That would be a good day. He made us laugh and he made us cry—and sometimes at the same time. He had a hard life, fought and scraped his way through most of it, and in the end was bested by Alzheimer's, but was blessedly unaware of it.
We were grateful we were able to take care of him in his last years and at least make that part of his life a little easier for him. He was able to feel independent and in charge of his life to the end and that's the best he would have hoped for. As the patriarch of the family, he always thought he was taking care of us; and not the other way around. His dying words to us were "I'm guess I'm going to kick the bucket here so you two will have to take care of each other now." God love it.
Rest in peace, Arthur Victor Berthiaume. Keep the coffee warm and the tv tuned to Gunsmoke...we'll be there to join you in due time.