Grandpa Flint died...


This picture is of my big brother Bobby, my grandpa Flint and myself. I was less than a year old-I was still wearing a diaper So this was probably taken sometime in late 1954-maybe early 1955.

It was near Thanksgiving when mom got the telegram telling her that grandpa had died. I'm not sure who was hurt by it the most-she or me. He was her dad. He saved her life when she was 7 and laying in the hospital dieing of double pneumonia and empyema. This was pre-antibiotics and pre-IV to replenish body fluids. He spent the night spooning ice water over her cracked and dried lips. Mind you modern medicine at the time dictated they take half a rib out and secure a tube in her chest and let it drain into a glass gallon jug on the floor to get the pus away from her lungs and heart. Well.. back to my story.

I don't recall how old I was when I heard about it and if I weren't so lazy I could look it up-I have his death certificate just two feet away from me in the file cabinet-but those details aren't important to this story.

Turns out someone had broken into grandpas gunsmith shop to rob it. He lived in the shop-a small apartment at the back of the store. He used a pot bellied stove to heat it. He had had a fire in it during the day to take the chill out of the air. I don't know how hot the stove was, what he was burning, or how long since he had either stoked it or stirred it. All I know is they tied him to it-with his back facing it and left him there. He was there long enough that he was burned on his back and I believe mom said that there were third degree burns involved.

He lived long enough to be able to have the nurse write my mom once or twice-of course she wrote back. His death certificate said he died from the burns due to complications from cirrhosis of the liver. He had been an alcoholic-I don't know if he ever got over it. I'm a food-aholic and worse than that a choc-aholic. I'm not over it-although I do better now than I did 20 years ago.

Grandkids have a liberty that most parents can't afford and most grandparents dare not speak of-they can have favorites. Grandpa Flint was my favorite grandparents. This was back in the day when you only had a total of four-so there weren't a lot to pick and choose from. Was he my favorite because he had blue eyes? Because of his curly hair? Because he was tall and handsome? Because he really loved my mommy? Because he brought me cookies? No-not really. It was because he was the first one I felt really loved me. Sorry mom. I'm sure all the pregnancy, birthing, diapering, bathing, feeding, etc. constitute love-love born of service. I felt (that was an 'I feel' statement) that he loved me by choice. So from him, I felt that most precious love of being wanted, accepted, and loved just the way I am-totally unconditionally. I cry as I write this-I do miss my grandpa. I love you grandpa. I really wish you would have lived long enough for my kids to see and know you-here in mortality.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FAVORITE CHILDHOOD SONGS

My favorite childhood songs were the ones my mama taught me. 1) One day as I was seated on the subway, my high silk hat, my high silk hat; I laid it on the seat beside me, my high silk hat, my high silk hat; A big (sung in deep voice) fat lady came and sat upon it, my high silk hat, my high silk hat (sung in high pitch tiny voice); A big (sung in deep voice) fat lady came and sat upon it, my high silk hat, my high silk hat (sung in high pitch tiny voice); Christopher Columbus now what do you think of that? A big fat lady sat upon my hat! She broke my hat, now what’s the joke? She broke my hat, now what’s the joke? Christopher Columbus now what do you think of that? 2) The golden sun sinks in the west, Great Spirit calls all scouts to rest. We’ve had our work, We’ve had our play And we have lived, The true scout way. Upon my honor, I will try, To do my duty, To God on high, To help all other people out, And live the life of a real Girl Scout. 3) I had a little parasol long, long ago. A ...
Read more

The Measure of a Man

I loved this song. It was sung by Brett Raymond and it gave me a tremendous sense of where young men need to center themselves. The whole tape (yes, I have a cassette) is great, but this song speaks volumes. I played it often when my boys were teens-as much for me as for them. My youngest son even sang it at a program once-ah heaven-maybe some of it was getting where I really wanted it to go! The Measure of a Man comes from the album of the same name. It is by Clive Romney and friends. I have the hologram sticker that came with it. On the back of the jacket to the cassette case it says: "Though beautiful in any light, this holographic cover is most beautiful when viewed by the light of the sun. Life, likewise, is most beautiful when viewed by the light of the Son. Try it!" Is it the width of your shoulders how tall you stand Or how far you tip the scale The size of your biceps the strength of your hands Your prowess in games of skill Is it the style of your hair, the way that...
Read more

Riddley, Riddley Ree

Image
Riddley, Riddley Ree, I see something you don't see. And the color(s) of it is(are): (list goes here). My mom used to spend hours (it seemed like to me) with us kids playing this game. She'd pick an ornament on the tree and start the game. Sometimes the other kids would play for a while. I would keep playing and playing. I loved the game. When I became a mom I would play this same game with my kids. I found it fun to continue the tradition and I found it useful to keep the kids entertained. Of course with my kids we had to come up with rules. They pushed all kinds of boundaries. So there were rules like the lights don't count, the stand doesn't count, only the ornaments count, you can't switch which ornament you were thinking of just because someone guessed yours on the first try. The only rule my mom ever had to use with us was if no one guessed it after a reasonable time, then you got to pick another ornament and do it again. Mom seemed to have infinite patience w...
Read more