Farewell, Grandpa

I'm not sure I should even dare to follow up on Judybat's lovely tribute to her Grandpa, except to say that the girl comes from a damn fine gene pool.

I do, however, want to expand a bit on what she said about his reaction to the two of us. When it became obvious that we were together for the long haul, Judybat felt the need to tell her grandfather, if only because he kept asking when she was going to get started on her "goal." (She explained to him that her goals involved personal and professional fulfillment. He explained that he thought she wanted to be "creative," which he took to mean having babies.)

I wasn't at the actual talk that she had with him, when, if I'm getting this right, she asked him if there was anything he wanted to ask her about me. (And it's my family that's conflict averse??)

He said no. But later, as he was giving us a tour of his temple, he stopped and sat for a moment in the glow of the memorial lights. He told us about his first wife and how much he loved her. And he told us that he's come, as he's grown older, to recognize that there are many different types and ways to love. Husbands and wives love each other, yes. But men can love each other, and women can love each other. And it's all good.

We took that as a blessing, or at least as close to a blessing as we were going to get from a man fast approaching 95. Later, he made a point of asking about me every time he called Judybat.

He wasn't just being polite, either. First he would ask her how her goals were going. Was she, say, ready to be pregnant? And then he would ask how things were going for me at work.

He had adjusted, in the best way he knew how. For that, and for the daughter and granddaughters and great-grandchildren he produced, I loved him. He got exactly the death he wanted and deserved -- pretty much all any of us can ask for, right?