When I think back on my childhood and youth, my family was (and is) my core. My experiences as a child really influenced the person I am today, the values I have, and the family I hope to someday raise. There are some memories that stick out more than others, and my grandpa Case is one of them.
My mom and aunt will tell you that my grandpa looked like, walked like, and talked like John Wayne. And he did. But what seems to do it for me is a little Johnny Cash. His voice reminds me so much of him sometimes, and he was just as handsome. My grandpa was also a military man; a veteran of the US Navy and tough as nails.
The end of 2011 marked 15 years without him. And as unbelievable as that is for me to calculate and realize, I can still remember that man's voice as clear as day. I was 13 years old when he passed away; young - but old enough and fortunate enough to have a basket full of memories to cling onto. One of my favorite things to do is sit down and have my mom tell me stories about growing up with him. I've heard all kinds of stories about the hard-working, dedicated, stern, intimidating man and father whose name to others was Loyal. As fun it is to hear those stories, that was not the man I knew. Intimidating, sure. To a small girl he stood 12 feet tall and had a baritone voice bigger to me than anything I had ever heard.
My grandparents use to have a yellow camper that might as well have been the Barbie Glamour Camper that to me was the coolest thing, ever. The first time I touched a fishing pole was with my grandpa. I caught two fish, and almost fell in the lake like a true girl, but if I was ever able to go with them to the campground, well...my entire month was probably made.
Visiting my grandparents house as little kid, one of the first things I wanted to do was go in the back room and see him. I'd find him watching a Cubs game or listening to his police scanner and reading the paper. Other times I could find him in the garage building something out of wood where I wasn't allowed to touch or sit near anything sharp. Sometimes you could find him sitting on the back stairs overlooking the backyard, probably talking about a squirrel and eating a braunschweiger sandwich. I'd just sit there with him. At some point within the first 30 minutes of being at their house, I would sneak into my grandma's cupboard where the goodies were and try to open it as quietly as I could. It never worked. He heard me every time, just sitting in his chair and would ever so lovingly say "GET OUT OF THERE YUM-YUM..."
...I walked away empty handed almost every time.
Why am I telling you all of these memories that hold no value to you? I don't know. I guess this is more of a reflection for me. I don't really know why he has such a strong mark in my life when I was just 13. I think about him often. I close my eyes a lot and try to put my Keds back on and place myself in his garage, or on the back porch with him. I try to remember the things he'd say and hear his strong voice. When my grandpa got sick and finally passed away, even at 13 I think I was in denial. I went through a period of days where it felt unreal. I played like normal. It wasn't true. Once it finally made sense, after watching my mother suffer the loss of her father, it made me realize that I never wanted to be her in a moment like that. To this day, it is hard for me to walk into my grandparent's garage. The last time I was in there, I could still smell the sawdust from things he had made. His pencil was still sitting out. I'd like to keep it that way.
My grandma is still walking around town (literally, like a boss) and has to be one of the most influential people in my life, aside from my own mother. She's 80 years old, witty, hilarious, and dresses like a modern day golden girl. If I could be half of the woman that she or my mom is, I'd feel pretty damn good.
I often reflect on the choices I have made and my mind immediately goes to my grandpa. Would he be proud to know the woman that I am approaching 30? I hope so. I think it's safe to say that his memory pushes me to be a better person, and be true to myself. And maybe it's even a little bit that though he's up there kicking it with Jesus, I'm still a little afraid I'm going to hear his voice telling me to get out of the cupboard...
I'm lucky to say that at 28, I have a wonderful family and friends (old and new) who are healthy, happy, thriving human beings that inspire me every day. In 2012 my goal is to make sure they know it. Life is too short and smiles should happen more often.
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