Legacy

We all reach a point in our young lives when we are able to process and comprehend what death truly is.  For most of us, at that moment, or sometime after, it dawns on us that one day; we will have to deal with the death of our parents.   Before it happens, it is a very difficult and surreal thing to have to swallow.    We don’t focus on it.  We push it to the back of our minds and try to believe that we have all the time in the world.   This month, I finally had to make that long trip back home to Missouri, to deal with the death of one of my parents.   My father was 71.  He had been pretty sick for the last 3 years from illnesses brought on from over 50 years of tobacco use.  He succumbed to it on July 11, 2014.

I was en route to dads when I got the news that he had passed in the middle of the night before I could get there.  It is worth noting, that nothing remained unsaid between my father and myself.  I knew in my head that I had already told him everything I had wanted too.  Because of this, I was not saddened by the lack of ability to say goodbye, but by the fact that I was not able to be there to hold his hand as he passed.   However, it was the emotions and thoughts that would happen over the next seven days that would surprise me.

The first emotion that washed over me like a blanket, almost at once, was relief.  I was so glad that my father was no longer suffering.  Then immediately, I was stricken with a sense of liberation.  I have spent so much emotional energy over the last few years worrying about Joe, that I had not realized how heavy it was weighing on my soul.  I no longer had to worry about when or where, because I had the answer now.   In just such emotional times, Dad was always my go-to guy for advice.  My instinct at that point was to immediately think to call him for advice.  I reached for my phone before I was hit with it.  Then the emptiness came when I realized I would never again have his shoulder to lean on.

Over the next several days, I did a lot of driving through Missouri and Iowa, mostly running errands for the estate, but sometimes for soul searching.  One such trip was to the Grace family gravesite in Kahoka Missouri where my grandparents lay, so that I could scout a location for Dad.  I had not visited with my Grandparents in over 20 years.  I spent an hour there, talking, crying and listening.  When I left Kahoka, I was flooded with a new sense of emptiness: spiritual.  My family is a God fearing one.  My whole life I had heard about the need for spiritual fulfillment and I never understood it, until now.  I had spent my life working to achieve fulfillment on a physical, emotional and financial level.  But now, talking to God seemed to fill a void for me that I never noticed before.

After the service, we had a little wake in the basement of the Church.  It was at this point where I got to hold my Grandson Eryx for the first time.  It was at the very moment where it was really sinking in that I was a grandfather that my daughter Nicole pointed out to me that I was now “Grandpa Grace”.  That notion hit me like a ton of bricks.  As the oldest son, of the oldest son, of the oldest son, the mantle was now mine to carry.  It had never dawned on me that one day it would be mine to guard.  I was suddenly stricken with an urgent sense of responsibility to my kin.  A lot of people ask me why I live in Florida, so far away from my family.  The answer was always simple: because I ran out of ground.  When I hit the water I had to stop running or buy a boat.   Now I suddenly feel like I should be making more effort to be attending family reunions and being more connected with the Grace clan.  I have a sneaking suspicion that in doing so, the spiritual void I am feeling may start to fill.

Grandpa Grace with Eryx.

I owe a great deal of thanks at this point to a lot of people.  First and foremost to my sister Annette and her husband Allen who repeatedly helped me financially when I lacked the means myself.  To my brother Robert who saw it in his heart to forgive me and let us bury a 20 year old hatchet.  To all of my friends who sent me messages of support.  And to the entire Grace family who showed in a Podunk town in the middle of Missouri to say help us say goodbye to one of the most influential men in all of our lives.  I write all of this with another emotion: A renewed sense of self, of who I want to be and of the changes I want to make in my life to take advantage of the time I have left on this earth.  I will make no promises, but I am definitely going to make an effort.

Grandpa Grace