A 4-year-old and a Funeral Home
But they don't.
When I was a kid, only 4 years old, my grandfather passed away. He had suffered a heart attack. I have vague memories of being at the Bowerman Funeral Home in Eau Claire for his visitation. I remember people coming in through the front doors and signing a guestbook, and people answering the phone and crying. I only have a couple other memories of him: Him walking across our backyard as I hid under the porch and played with rocks, and him sitting on a short, three-legged stool eating a peach while my dad worked on his Mustang in the garage.
That's it. Three memories.
Flash-forward 24 years. It's November again. The next-generation Steinke boy is 4 years old. And everyone will be gathering at the funeral home again to see old friends and family, note their John Hancocks on the lines of a guestbook and bemoan the loss of a grandfather taken too young.
It would be a shock if my dad didn't suffer the same fate as his dad. We won't know for sure if heart failure was the cause until the death certificate is complete. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I expect my fate to be the same some day. My heart was built weak (I was born with a heart murmur) and high blood pressure is one of the many family traits I've inherited.
The only difference is I've accepted the facts of life. I know my family history. I can see the writing on the wall. So I see my doctor regularly. I try to eat healthy (damn you McDonald's). And, what most people don't realize, I've been taking blood pressure medication. For years. For one simple reason: to outlive my father (53) and his father before him (62), so that one day my grandkids will have the chance to know their grandfather.
I'm not sure how much of his grandfather Augie will remember as he grows up. Only time will tell. And unless Gracie has been blessed with a photographic memory, she'll probably never remember him. But I don't regret moving back to Michigan and giving page design a chance. Not for a second. Not since it gave my children the chance to see and know and love their grandparents. Even if it was just for a short time.
Andy, I just read and was touched by your thoughts concerning your father, you and your children. Life is a twisting stream we don't always know what lies around the next bend. The decision you and Gretchen made to return "home" so your children would know their grandparents was correct. I never knew my grandfather and my father died long before my children were born. No matter how greatly modern society devalues the family and generational wisdom there is always a missing element in my life and theirs without knowing some of the family history. My prayers and consolation go with you. But God always leaves a sliver of hope and love in any situation. Teach this to your children. The measure of a man is not found in wealth, fame or glory. His true worth lives on in his children and grandchildren. Tell them of the good man your father was. Tell how he worked hard to provide for his family, how he was a faithful Christian who passed on his faith and love to his children and grandchildren. And teach them he lives because He lived and overcame death and the Devil. And teach them they will meet their grandfather someday at the foot of the Throne and he will be more than a memory to them. Finally, do what your dad would want you to do; help your dear Mother in the sometimes difficult days ahead, that too is the measure of a man. I pray God will comfort you and your family and assuage the sorrow which now overwhelms you.
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