Grandpa and Grandma Green with my sister Michelle in August 2006. He loved Michelle and would always ask how she was doing when we would visit.
It is when I am in the middle of writing my thesis about ghosts and haunting as a form of ethical memory that I receive word, just this morning, that my Grandfather passed away. It will be hard to write anything today. I started reading Jacques Derrida's book
The Work of Mourning yesterday. I was hesitant about whether or not I should something here about Grandpa Green. After reading what Derrida wrote with regards to such situations, I decided that it would be okay. Here are some of my memories.
My Grandma got divorced, I think, before I was born, or maybe just after. When we lived in California she started dating and she would sometimes visit with her current "friend". There was one guy I despised because he put ketchup on his rice. Grandpa Green was wonderful from the start. Grandma's words echo in my memory, "This is Lloyd, Lloyd Green". The name seemed strange to me at the time, was I seven or eight years old? I remember being impressed with his smile, his sense of humor, and his courteous manner.
The beginning is fuzzy, by now it seems as if he was always there. It's hard to recall any memories of Grandma in which she isn't already Grandma Green. I know that Grandma was much happier when they were together. They took an extended trip in the R.V. to Nova Scotia and at some point came down to see us in California. Grandpa didn't like the traffic and after a few visits he decided he wouldn't come back to California, I can't blame him.
Grandma and Grandpa took my brother and I to the Golden Corral Buffet for lunch once. I started my meal by eating an entire plate of whipped cream and followed it up with a plate of chocolate mousse. Though I had a hollow leg at the time, it must have gotten clogged, cause I threw up my whole lunch in the bathroom when I was done eating. I think Dan did too, I can't remember. Grandpa wasn't pleased though.
I caught my first fish, a tiny little trout, at Farmington Pond, just up the road from Grandma's house. I didn't know how to get the hook out so I started toward home proud as puppy. I must have been gone a long time because I met grandpa coming up the road on his four-wheeler. He helped me wash and gut my fish. I think on that same trip we drove down to Bryce Canyon to meet my parents for a camping trip, we cooked and ate my fish at the campground.
At a family gathering he made a huge batch of root beer. I vaguely remember using his truck to make several trips to the Ogden dump along with my cousin Brad. Grandpa had a favorite hat that he would wear when he mowed the lawn or cleaned snow from the the drive. He used to plow the neighbor's drive too. When I left for Mexico, I took a picture with his hat on.
More than once I showed up at their house with friends and less than an hours notice. They generously let us stay the night and were always worried that we hadn't eaten enough. Once my friend Kevin came back to Grandma and Grandpa's house two hours later than he said he would. Grandpa was worried about him the whole time, I told Kevin he was a dufus for coming back late.
Shaunie and I stopped in to say hello on the return trip from Rexburg and ended up helping take Grandpa to the E.R. I don't remember what happened, just that it was difficult for everyone. But still, after he was hooked up to all the monitors and tubes in the hospital, Grandma managed to squeeze my hand and tell me "Thank you", with a bit of a smile. He recovered slowly form that surgery, and I think he was back to his old self for a while, but it seems like that trip to the hospital was when his body started the slow process of dying.
Grandpa always enjoyed the brief visits we made after I was married. He made Shaunie feel very welcome in the family (as did Grandma) and his face would always light up when he saw her. "She's a pretty girl Ben", he would say to me. When the kids were born he enjoyed holding them and eventually, watching them crawl and play. He never got to see Gordon. The girls would play shy at first and then when it was time to go they would give him hugs and kisses. Jillian could never get over the oxygen tubes and it took some doing to get her to hug him, but there was always a kiss.
The last time I saw him was in the rest home. It was sometime in March I think. I was lucky to go on a good day, Grandpa recognized me, though he couldn't remember my name. Still, when Grandma and I walked in he looked at me and his face lit up with his familiar smile. He even managed a chuckle or two while I was visiting with him. His laugh echoed in my memory as I recalled the many times I'd heard it. I can't remember any of the jokes but I can remember his laugh, it's a great laugh, a mischievous trickster laugh. Grandpa and Grandma held hands as they talked. I know it hurt Grandma a great deal when Grandpa had to go to the rest home. She couldn't take care of him anymore and she was getting worn down real fast. They loved each other and they were happy. He was always a gentleman. Grandpa took care of Grandma until he couldn't any more. Then she took care of him. He was Grandma second husband but I never felt any different about him than I did about a blood relative. He was there for me. He was my Grandpa and he loved me...and I love him still.
"Se pondrá contento der ver a alguien después de tantos años que nadie viene por aquí" (66)
