My Grandpa

Earlier this week, my grandpa Bushell peacefully passed away.

We knew it would happen sometime soon, and we were prepared for it, but It's always hard to let a loved one go. 

His funeral was beautiful. Simple, and respectful, jut how he would have wanted it.

As my family members spoke about their memories of him, I thought of my own favorite memories, and 3 came to mind that I will always cherish.

The first, is one time when we went camping. He had a 4-wheeler and often took us grandkids for a quick ride. Usually packing 2 or 3 of us on. But on this particular day, he asked if I would like to go for a ride, just the 2 of us. I remember that as soon as I hopped on the 4-wheeler, he said "You might want to keep your mouth closed. Otherwise, you will get bugs in your teeth!".  Needless to say, I was terrified I'd be spitting out horseflies and beetles into the next week! We rode around the mountains for what seemed like forever.

The 2nd, was only a few years ago. I think it was just before my grandma passed away. We were over at their home for some sort of family party or BBQ, and out on the table in the back yard, he had a small scale, working engine that he had built. My grandpa loved to take things apart and put them back together. He never threw anything away because he could just fix it himself. He sat me down and pointed out every aspect of that engine, explaining to me how it worked, what part did what, and how gasoline in converted into energy for the engine to run. I like that memory because it defines just how my grandpa was: always curious of how things worked, and he enjoyed passing on that knowledge.

The third was the day he asked if I wanted to see his photos. He enjoyed taking photos and had faithfully cataloged them. He showed me an album or two of some nature photography, and then said "would you like to see my photos from Germany when I was in the army? I think you would appreciate them." He then pulled out an old album with his photos from when he served in Germany during the Korean war. He spent a good hour going through each photo, recalling all of the men's names in every photo. I remember that near the end of the album, his voice cracked and he had to excuse himself. He left for a moment and returned with a tissue and a couple of tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry" he said "but you know, those were all good men..."

My grandpa was never an expressive man. He never hugged you, or showed much emotion, so that moment was significant to me. He wanted my family to see those photos because they had meant a lot to him, and they now mean a lot to me.

I guess, now that I think of it, there is one more memory that I will always pull up when I think of him. A week or so before he passed away, he came to stay at my parents house for the weekend. He was so thin and his body moved slowly and his mind was moving slowly as well. It really hurt me to see him like that because I was so used to my strong and healthy grandpa. I didn't know how I should act. I almost felt uncomfortable. He sat down on the couch and after I walked in from getting his bags from the car he said "Now Brooke, you know those hats you make?"

"The knitted ones I make on the loom?" I asked

"Yeah, those knitted ones. If you aren't too busy this weekend, will you show me how to make one? I'd really like to learn because Roberta liked to make them." (Roberta is my Grandma)

This request really warmed my heart. Years ago, he had made me the loom I used to make knitted hats on. He made it out of wood and even carved his radio call name from when he was in the military on it "Lobo" (which means 'Wolf' I think...) I still have it, and I still make hats on it.

But I never did get around to show him.

And I will regret that for a long time. It probably would have been the last one-on-one time I would ever have with him.

I'm so grateful for the knowledge I have of eternal families. It's comforting to know that he is reunited with my grandma now, and they are waiting until the day that we will all be together again.