The Zog Blog

On February 7, after more long illnesses than any one human should have to encounter, my grandfather Ray passed away. He was a few weeks past his 80th birthday.

As an adult, I knew Ray better than any of my other grandparents. I thought, as I started Gram Lois’ essay back in August, that whenever Grampie Ray died his would be the easiest to write. But instead, it’s been the hardest. I suppose I just haven’t been ready for the closure represented by the memories I’ve shared with you of my other relatives over the last 6 months. Gathering the thoughts to write this is such a final step, and a large part of me wants to still imagine him on the other end of this blog, sharing it with my father or sending me back thoughtful email.

*****

His eyes were poor enough that he couldn’t fight in the war. With his ready smile and his slightly wicked sense of humor, he was “quite the dancer” at the USO dances and swept my grandmother (who was really quite a hottie) off her feet. They had three children when they were still quite young: My aunt Terri (dead this past November), my father, and then my aunt Lynn. He was a born salesman, as they say, and while his family was never what anyone would call “well off”, he provided for them well enough that in 1959 they purchased a house kit. With help from friends, he built the house they stayed in for almost 50 years with his own two hands. He wired it, hung the cabinets, ran the plumbing, put on the roof, installed windows and floors and doors. He built it next door to his own father’s house, raised his 3 kids, and then cared for his parents until they, too, left. His most incongruous hobby, from my perspective, was his love of guns and shooting. He was a championship skeet shooter “back in the day”, and I don’t know if my grandmother ever really knew how many guns he had. But by the time I was old enough to know anything he was pretty much only terrifying to the squirrels in the yard. (“Heh. That bastard won’t be eating out of the bird feeder again, let me tell you.”)

He had a long career of a variety of jobs, from working in the shipyard to a brief and failed furniture business with my dad. Eventually, he discovered that his job at the yard gave him emphysema and asbestosis in addition to the paycheck. My memory is hazy now, but I’m pretty sure he finally succumbed to his doctor’s urging to use oxygen shortly after I started college. He retired around that time, too, and he and my grandmother drove each other crazy until he went back to a part-time job selling cars. (Eventually his health prevented that, too.)

I have to be honest and say that I didn’t really know Ray at all until I was edging toward adulthood. I don’t know if this was just because he worked so much, whether I just wasn’t around when he was, whether he just plain wasn’t great with children. But starting when I was a teenager, I felt more of a kinship with Grampie Ray than with any other grandparent. He was the only member of my family who shared my love of books, of knowledge, of learning. When I was in high school, I’d sneak whatever he’d finished off his shelf, read it, and talk to him about it. We’d play cribbage together, me always losing but us both always having a good time.

Ray loved people, he loved being clever, he loved a good laugh. As his body started failing him, he threw himself even more into mental hobbies. Crosswords, crypto-quips, and eventually (thank heavens for this) the computer. I don’t remember exactly when he convinced my grandmother to get one, but eventually he wore her down and they got a computer (and, in quick succession, dial-up and high-speed internet service). I was fond of joking with him that he was the hippest grandfather anywhere, and the only one to point out the latest security issue to his information-security-worker granddaughter. Sometimes his unending technogeekery about software and hardware and whatever he was doing that week got on my nerves, but I never lost sight of how damn lucky I was to be able to keep in touch with him so regularly. As distance (economic, physical, and cultural) brought me further and further away from most of my family, I was never more than a heartbeat away from Ray. I cherished that, and still do.

My fondness for him really didn’t know any bounds, these last few years. Ever interested in learning something new (and always more attracted to alternative explanations than was really good for him), he began studying Reiki about 3 years ago. I wonder sometimes if I was the only one he felt took his latest pursuit seriously, and if I look back our conversations about Reiki were the start of the strengthening of our friendship. (I can’t say that I personally get anything out of Reiki, but it was so clear to me how much Reiki helped my grandfather that I couldn’t help but respect it.)

When we moved to California and I started this blog, he quickly became a daily reader (and emailer, if I hadn’t posted yet that day). In many ways, he provided the motivation to keep this thing going. He was so supportive of it, and of me, especially the more personal writing I’ve done here. I can’t say how much I miss his IM chats and quick messages (always, always signed with “Luv ya…” and a smiley face wearing sunglasses, mind). How much further away from my family and my roots I feel, now that we’re not constantly chatting.

With some doubts about whether or not he would really be up for company, I stayed with him the weekend of my grandmother Lois’ funeral. I am so, so happy I did. We watched movies and baseball, drank beer, did the crosswords, talked about his latest conspiracy theory passion, indulged in ice cream together. We’re both such quiet people, and I think we did one another a world of good that weekend. It was one of those rare and wonderful moments of adult friendship with a relative. We were two people who had loved the same person, who enjoyed the same things, giving one another companionable silence when it was needed most.

Jacob, Jon, and I stayed with him for a few days when we visited in December. I am glad I didn’t know it would be the last time. Again, despite my reservations, he seemed to love having us around. I cooked him dinner, he played with Jacob, we gossiped about his new Mac and how much easier it was to maintain than his old PC. I helped him get all of his digital pictures migrated from one system to another. We had nice chats. He laughed at what a handful Jacob could be. He shared some of his (more precious than gold!) deer meat with me, and we ate more ice cream while we watched the cat watching the snow fall.

Ray’s health took several turns for the worse, after the new year, and he confided to me early in January that he felt like he ought to “check out” before his 80th birthday. He was off by a few weeks, but kept up with the jokes until the very end. He was a great man, and is greatly missed.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS