Two days ago one of my dogs died. It's still a terrible shock since he was the younger one of our dogs, and the most active. In fact, he had surgery about six months ago and the vet said he would have guessed his age at 6 or 7, not the 11 he was.
Reno was one of those dogs that everybody loved, and he loved everyone back as only a dog can; unconditionally and with all his heart. He was a constant source of laughter for us. here.
The night he died was like any other with him dividing his time between sitting next to me and laying his head on my knee, visiting everyone in the room hoping for a pat on the head, belly rub or a treat to eat. He was fine.
I went to bed and he followed me a laid down on the floor next to my side of the bed, just like he has for 11 years. Sometime during the night, he got up, went upstairs and laid down under my desk. That's where I found him the next morning; just laying there like he was asleep. He must have died around 3:00 am.
I buried him on the hill beside the house, near where he would lay in the afternoons watching the house. I wish I had the words to say what that little guy meant to me and my family. All I can do is thank the Lord for blessing us with such a good friend and companion. He will forever be in my heart as my little Reno-bambino.
Good-bye little buddy, I love you.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, February 24, 2006
Grandpa pt 1
I started writing my memories of my Grandpa a few weeks before my Grandma passed away and had hoped to show them to her, but she decided she had been away from him far too long before I had a chance. Yet another regret I have, but I'm still glad I started writing these things down. I have about 10 pages just about Grandpa, so I'll post a bit at a time. This story always made me laugh when I heard it. So, Grandma and Grandpa, I hope you're having fun and don't worry about us, we'll see you soon enough. I love you both very much.
Over the years I’ve learned a lot about my Grandpa, the man. The more I learn about him, the more in awe I am. He was born in Belgium and during WWI he and one of his brothers lived in an orphanage since his father had left for America before the war started and was going to send for them when he was able. The way I understand it, they were living with an Aunt, and when the war broke out she couldn’t provide for them and sent them to a Catholic orphanage. After the war ended, my Grandpa, at 16 years old, made his way to America with no money and unable to read, write or speak English. He was able to get from Belgium to Iowa and eventually locate his father. Quite a feat when you think about America in the early 20th century; very few phones, travel either by horse or on foot, and he had no idea where Iowa even was; just a general idea of the direction he needed to travel. That in itself is another story.
The only story I remember hearing about during his time at the orphanage was the time he was almost killed by an unexploded bomb. I hope I have it right, I haven’t heard the story in over 15 years, but it goes like this; the Nuns who ran the orphanage were very strict and so grandpa and his brother (I think it was Oscar, but maybe it was Morris) were always afraid of getting caught doing what young boys do (getting dirty, playing when they should have been reading etc). Anyway, one day they noticed something very shiny at the bottom of the river that ran behind the orphanage. The water was too deep for them to get it, so they kept trying everyday for quite a while. Finally, the spring waters had gone down enough for them to get it out of the river and try and figure out what it was.
Now picture two young boys hiding in the back grounds of a catholic orphanage, playing with an unknown treasure they had just pulled from the river while brilliant white sheets fluttered in the summer sun on a clothes line nearby. Grandpa’s brother (on lookout) suddenly and urgently whispers to him “the Nun is coming!!!!” and grandpa, not wanting to get in trouble, tosses the thing over the low stone wall to hide it until the coast is clear. BOOOOOOOOM! This thing they were playing with turns out to be an unexploded bomb! The resulting blast SHREDS the nearest sheets and turns them black and smoldering in the breeze! The Nun drops her laundry and hightails it with her long black habit pulled up to her knees for the safety of the building, thinking the Germans were attacking. Grandpa, with his ears ringing like bansees, feels the back of his head which feels like hamburger and looks at his bloodied hands in disbelief. His younger brother starts wailing “DEILA, YOUR BRAINS ARE FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!” and runs sobbing to the building.
In a panic, Grandpa, takes off running down the road and is finally picked up a mile or so later by some American soldiers that are bivouacked near the orphanage. They take him to the Army Dr. who stitches him up and then finally drives him back to the orphanage. The ride back to the orphanage was terrifying for him; he just KNEW he was in trouble with a capital T. Luckily, the Nuns still thought they had been attacked by the Germans. They RAN out to welcome him home, smothering him with hugs and heaping praise on him for his bravery in running to the American camp while under fire, to try and help defend his home! He never did tell them the truth!
He's been gone almost 21 years and I still miss him.
Over the years I’ve learned a lot about my Grandpa, the man. The more I learn about him, the more in awe I am. He was born in Belgium and during WWI he and one of his brothers lived in an orphanage since his father had left for America before the war started and was going to send for them when he was able. The way I understand it, they were living with an Aunt, and when the war broke out she couldn’t provide for them and sent them to a Catholic orphanage. After the war ended, my Grandpa, at 16 years old, made his way to America with no money and unable to read, write or speak English. He was able to get from Belgium to Iowa and eventually locate his father. Quite a feat when you think about America in the early 20th century; very few phones, travel either by horse or on foot, and he had no idea where Iowa even was; just a general idea of the direction he needed to travel. That in itself is another story.
The only story I remember hearing about during his time at the orphanage was the time he was almost killed by an unexploded bomb. I hope I have it right, I haven’t heard the story in over 15 years, but it goes like this; the Nuns who ran the orphanage were very strict and so grandpa and his brother (I think it was Oscar, but maybe it was Morris) were always afraid of getting caught doing what young boys do (getting dirty, playing when they should have been reading etc). Anyway, one day they noticed something very shiny at the bottom of the river that ran behind the orphanage. The water was too deep for them to get it, so they kept trying everyday for quite a while. Finally, the spring waters had gone down enough for them to get it out of the river and try and figure out what it was.
Now picture two young boys hiding in the back grounds of a catholic orphanage, playing with an unknown treasure they had just pulled from the river while brilliant white sheets fluttered in the summer sun on a clothes line nearby. Grandpa’s brother (on lookout) suddenly and urgently whispers to him “the Nun is coming!!!!” and grandpa, not wanting to get in trouble, tosses the thing over the low stone wall to hide it until the coast is clear. BOOOOOOOOM! This thing they were playing with turns out to be an unexploded bomb! The resulting blast SHREDS the nearest sheets and turns them black and smoldering in the breeze! The Nun drops her laundry and hightails it with her long black habit pulled up to her knees for the safety of the building, thinking the Germans were attacking. Grandpa, with his ears ringing like bansees, feels the back of his head which feels like hamburger and looks at his bloodied hands in disbelief. His younger brother starts wailing “DEILA, YOUR BRAINS ARE FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!” and runs sobbing to the building.
In a panic, Grandpa, takes off running down the road and is finally picked up a mile or so later by some American soldiers that are bivouacked near the orphanage. They take him to the Army Dr. who stitches him up and then finally drives him back to the orphanage. The ride back to the orphanage was terrifying for him; he just KNEW he was in trouble with a capital T. Luckily, the Nuns still thought they had been attacked by the Germans. They RAN out to welcome him home, smothering him with hugs and heaping praise on him for his bravery in running to the American camp while under fire, to try and help defend his home! He never did tell them the truth!
He's been gone almost 21 years and I still miss him.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Grandma part 1
I wrote this in the airport yesterday on my way home.
We buried my Grandma yesterday on her 99th birthday. As we sat around talking and telling stories about our memories of her, I couldn’t help but think of what a wonderful contribution she made to our world.
Obviously, she gave life to my mother and all her siblings, so without her, none of us gathered here would even exist without her. But it goes much more than that. She was an incredibly strong woman who in her own small way, broke many barriers and stereotypes over her lifetime.
She came to this country as a 3 year-old toddler and was the oldest of 11 kids. She worked long hard hours on her father’s farm, and was one of the first women to learn to drive that newfangled invention, the horse less carriage. She lost a brother at Pearl Harbor and proudly watched as her four sons served their country. She was Grandpa’s best friend and missed him dearly and talked of him everyday for the last 20 years.
To me of course, she was this little old lady who had a boisterous laugh and a warm kitchen full of cookies and fun, and now great memories. Over the years I’ve come to know her from a different perspective. She was more than a great Grandma; she was also a mother, wife and friend. The Priest summed up her essence in a few true words: fearless in faith. I never really noticed before this weekend, just how important her faith was to her, but as we looked around her house, suddenly it became starkly clear. Everywhere you looked, there are crucifixes, icons, and other evidence of her deep love of god, only equaled by her love of her family.
Corners are piled high with photo albums of her family and displayed on every wall and furniture surface are framed photos of her family; photos of each or her 8 children from baby pictures to recent photos, and showing their life stages in between. There are also pictures of her 25 grandchildren, 27 great grandchildren, and 3 great-great grandchildren. She so loved her family and loved to tell anyone who would listen all about each of them.
In talking with her nurse and my mother about the day she passed, there is no doubt that she knew it was time to go. She had been confused for several weeks and was not eating well, however on that day she was incredibly lucid. My mother had returned to her house while Grandma was to do her daily physical therapy. Nurse Terri said that Grandma told her she was going to skip therapy that day because God had told her to he didn’t want her working that hard on that day. She also made sure she had a good full meal before going back to her room for her nap. She passed away shortly after, quietly in her room. We all know that she made sure she wouldn’t be hungry on her journey to heaven.
Grandma lived in her own home, by herself, up until 3 months before she died. My mom would come by and check on her everyday to make sure she took her medicine, visit, and ensure she was okay. It was very hard on both of them to finally decide to enter the nursing home, but obviously it was the right thing to do. Just like Grandpa 20 years earlier, she didn’t stay long. Recently my mom asked her when her happiest times were. “In my whole life?” she asked; “well, yeah” mom said. Grandma thought about it a moment and replied, “When I was doing my chores.” Once she could do her chores anymore, and moved into the home, she lost her drive. I think she just got tired and really wanted to see Grandpa again. He’s been waiting for her for quite some time.
Grandma and Grandpa were married for 58 years, raised 8 successful children; none of which were ever in trouble with the law. They taught hard work, honesty, integrity and faithfulness through unflinching examples. I’m humbled and blessed to be a part of their legacy.
Happy birthday Grandma, rest well you deserve it. Tell Grandpa Hi for me and know that I love and miss you both. Till we meet again.
We buried my Grandma yesterday on her 99th birthday. As we sat around talking and telling stories about our memories of her, I couldn’t help but think of what a wonderful contribution she made to our world.
Obviously, she gave life to my mother and all her siblings, so without her, none of us gathered here would even exist without her. But it goes much more than that. She was an incredibly strong woman who in her own small way, broke many barriers and stereotypes over her lifetime.
She came to this country as a 3 year-old toddler and was the oldest of 11 kids. She worked long hard hours on her father’s farm, and was one of the first women to learn to drive that newfangled invention, the horse less carriage. She lost a brother at Pearl Harbor and proudly watched as her four sons served their country. She was Grandpa’s best friend and missed him dearly and talked of him everyday for the last 20 years.
To me of course, she was this little old lady who had a boisterous laugh and a warm kitchen full of cookies and fun, and now great memories. Over the years I’ve come to know her from a different perspective. She was more than a great Grandma; she was also a mother, wife and friend. The Priest summed up her essence in a few true words: fearless in faith. I never really noticed before this weekend, just how important her faith was to her, but as we looked around her house, suddenly it became starkly clear. Everywhere you looked, there are crucifixes, icons, and other evidence of her deep love of god, only equaled by her love of her family.
Corners are piled high with photo albums of her family and displayed on every wall and furniture surface are framed photos of her family; photos of each or her 8 children from baby pictures to recent photos, and showing their life stages in between. There are also pictures of her 25 grandchildren, 27 great grandchildren, and 3 great-great grandchildren. She so loved her family and loved to tell anyone who would listen all about each of them.
In talking with her nurse and my mother about the day she passed, there is no doubt that she knew it was time to go. She had been confused for several weeks and was not eating well, however on that day she was incredibly lucid. My mother had returned to her house while Grandma was to do her daily physical therapy. Nurse Terri said that Grandma told her she was going to skip therapy that day because God had told her to he didn’t want her working that hard on that day. She also made sure she had a good full meal before going back to her room for her nap. She passed away shortly after, quietly in her room. We all know that she made sure she wouldn’t be hungry on her journey to heaven.
Grandma lived in her own home, by herself, up until 3 months before she died. My mom would come by and check on her everyday to make sure she took her medicine, visit, and ensure she was okay. It was very hard on both of them to finally decide to enter the nursing home, but obviously it was the right thing to do. Just like Grandpa 20 years earlier, she didn’t stay long. Recently my mom asked her when her happiest times were. “In my whole life?” she asked; “well, yeah” mom said. Grandma thought about it a moment and replied, “When I was doing my chores.” Once she could do her chores anymore, and moved into the home, she lost her drive. I think she just got tired and really wanted to see Grandpa again. He’s been waiting for her for quite some time.
Grandma and Grandpa were married for 58 years, raised 8 successful children; none of which were ever in trouble with the law. They taught hard work, honesty, integrity and faithfulness through unflinching examples. I’m humbled and blessed to be a part of their legacy.
Happy birthday Grandma, rest well you deserve it. Tell Grandpa Hi for me and know that I love and miss you both. Till we meet again.
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