Week 37 - Loss

We buried a good man this Thursday. After defeating cancer and fighting dementia, it was the heart failure that Grandpa couldn't overcome. He hung on long enough for most all the family to gather around one more time, the hospital room full of loving faces, brother and sister, nieces and children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He was a man who knew what hard work really meant, who knew that family always mattered most and who put his faith forward into action, leading his family forth by example. The hole left by his loss will be impossible to fill by any one person in this family. We all loved him so much and he knew it; this was obvious as we gathered around the bed to pray and sing hymns. He was smiling and positive, telling me to make sure I took care of the fields and the horses, later reminding us of what still needed done on the farm (even machinery that didn't exist anymore). He held my hand as he told me that he knew he had to go, and that he was so grateful I was there, that we were there to see him one last time. I know he said other kind things to me, which I swore I would write down and remember, but after saying goodbye, it was hard to revisit the subject to remember for a while. Besides, as I sat there, holding his handshake (strong, dairy-farmer grip to the end) and looking into his clear eyes, nothing else needed said. We both knew that it was farewell, and he knew that I loved him; I made sure to tell him that we all loved him. And then it was time to go, leaving him to his closest family for the last hours of his life.

Often when someone passes, people feel regret, but I have only memories. My wife is correct when she talks about how important it is to live close enough to your family to visit them. Growing up 1/4 mile away on the family farm, Grandma and Grandpa were a staple in my life. We would sit on the porch and eat peanuts or snap peas, talking about the weather, the livestock, the Buckeyes or the sunset. He would come out and shoot hook-shots off one foot, just like he learned to do during his basketball years. Or I would find him under a plow as he asked me to grab for a tool as we talked about the new calf on the ground. We baled hay together and fixed fences, while debating whose animals really caused the problem. I was blessed to live so close to them and enjoy so much time with them; I'm only disappointed that the last years of his life were while I was so far away at school or Europe, and that when I returned the dementia had already started to settle in. And I wish I hadn't been in Chicago for his last birthday, calling him from the van on the way home, and losing reception in forsaken Indiana, but he understood, and he was happy I was able to call him. Most of all, I wish that he had been able to hold our first child in his arms - he was so excited for us when we told him about the baby.

Me with my first market steer project.

Grandpa shaped my life in more ways than I can cover in a blog post, but I will tell you about the most critical one, because it is one of my favorite examples of the man. When I was 9 years old, we moved back to Ohio and he gave us a piece of the farm to live on. Being a wild thing recently returned from the woods of Michigan, this was a great time, but my carefree days were interrupted by this distraction called 4-H. My brother and grandpa had gone out and come back with a steer on a trailer, black as the night sky with this white blaze up the middle of his face. Houdini would become a love of mine, helping my brother feed him and water him whenever I could. I later took rabbits so that I could be in 4-H with my brother and learn about animals, thinking that I would never actually tackle a cattle project myself. But as the years rolled by, one thing led to another, and eventually I was hooked on the love of animals, the livestock industry and the idea of becoming a veterinarian. And all of this was just because Grandpa wanted us to have the experience of taking care of the stock, just like his children. Years later, I am pursuing my 3rd degree related to Animal Science, the love of which was first introduced to me by Grandpa so long ago.

Grandma and Grandpa with us my last year in 4-H.

Sitting and watching the clipping at NAILE with Grandpa.

Me, with my sister, years into college - continuing a family tradition.

Peace, like a sunset on the empty streets of Italy.

All work-related activities pale in comparison to the loss of my Grandpa, even though I've been working straight through everything to get a project off with the Brazilians and summer interns as fast as possible. In a way, having new people to train and protocols to arrange has given me something to focus on while the pain of loss diminishes. It is fun to see the Brazilians' responses to some of the things in the lab that were also awesome to me in the beginning, but I have grown accustomed to over time. And I remember that other people struggle through things far worse than my troubles. Knowing that he had a strong faith in God and having experienced his strong love of family leaves me with peace at the end.