It's easy to say, "I love you." It's easy to say, "See you later." It's easy to say, "I will never take you for granted." Yet, no matter how many times you say you won't take the day for granted, somehow it happens.
Now this is not a love story. It's not a story about a boy and a girl who fell in love. This is a story about how one man affected many people and affected one little girl.
As a little girl, Denise thought time took too slow. It took so long to grow up. It took so long to reach the point she wanted to reach. She thought, ugh, there's 5 more years until I can drive. It always seemed way too long until the next birthday. It always seemed to take forever to get what she wanted.
When she was seven years old, Denise's family moved close to her paternal grandparents. Weekly visits built close relationships between grandparents and granddaughter, and she enjoyed every moment with them. She grew close to her paternal grandmother, and her grandfather grew very dear to her. On some early mornings, she would go fishing with her dad and grandpa and return to Grandpa's house to indulge in mouth-watering pancakes drenched in sausage gravy. Of course, there was the oh, so often, "Be quiet, don't disturb your grandmother," or the ever-repeating, "I always wonder how you talk so much." Yet, even those times grew dear, and she realized how lovely her grandfather really was.
As Denise grew older, she realized there would come a day when she would no longer see her dear Grandma and Grandpa. They talked about it, but she knew it would be a thing in the future--the distant future when she had grown, graduated, and married. Then one day, she received a call. "You need to come over here right away," the voice said.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"It's your grandfather. Just get over here." Her uncle paused. "I love you."
"Is everything okay?" she managed to whisper.
"Just get over here asap."
"Okay. Bye." She dropped the phone in her lap.
Denise walked up to the house. Looking around, she saw the ambulance and police cars. Not sure what to expect, she ascended the stairs to the porch and opened the door. The next moments were a blur in slow motion. Her cousins were sitting on the sofa looking blank. Her sisters were behind her, unsure what to do. She saw her father with a phone in his hand and tears rolling down his face, something she had never seen before. Behind him, his sister entered with puffy eyes and puffy face. Denise heard her father's voice say in the distance, "Do you know what's going on?"
She tried to take everything in. In the other room, strange men in uniforms were standing awkwardly as if unsure what to do, wanting to be professional but trying to be considerate. No! It can't be! It's not true! her mind screamed. She felt hot tears crawl out of her eyes. Her older cousin Calhoun stood up and held his arms out. Her unrestrained tears fell on his shoulder and she held on to him. She could see his wife, Ava, standing there, sympathetic and sad.
It had been too late. He was gone. There was nothing anyone could do. The paramedics concluded Everett McKinley had suffered a heart attack during his sleep. He went peacefully to sleep, and he never woke up. He had transitioned from this world to the next without any pain or suffering. Grandpa simply lay there curled up, as if he were sleeping on a normal night.
Denise tore away from her family and sat outside. Unabated tears gushed from her eyes into her hands as she wondered why her loving, gentle, healthy grandfather was taken so suddenly. Bitterness had no place here; it was only sadness and regret that she hadn't said, "I love you," or "Goodbye," the last time she saw him. Denise assumed she would see her grandfather in two days. She only said, "See ya, Grandpa
!" and waved goodbye. She wondered what her grandmother would do without him. Grandma was in the hospital at that very moment, worried to death.
Over the next few days, she pondered. She thought about all of the lovely things he did for them. Memories of Grandpa flooded her mind. She closed her eyes and saw him cuddle his little dog in his arms and say, "Aw you're such a sweet dog, Rosie, yes you are! They're just teasin' you, aren't they? But you're my little Rosie, yes you are!" She smiled at the times when he walked in and said, "You come visit us alone or you come with your family?" And yes! Every time she asked him, "Hey Grandpa! How was your day?" It was one of two answers, the more common one being, "Pretty. good." The other answer: "Well it started at 6:30 this morning and it hasn't ended yet."
Denise thought about how it's so easy to take someone for granted. She lay on the bed next to where he slept, picturing him sleeping. Not being able to contain herself, she had opted out from saying goodbye as he lay in bed. She sat with her best friend in his office, watching a video he put together, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she leaned on her friend's shoulder. Sitting on Grandpa's couch, she expected him to walk out of his room with a load of laundry with his little cute dog following close behind. But it never happened. She turned around to say, "Hey Grandpa, I have a question." But he wasn't there to answer it. She realized how much she would miss him.
Everett McKinley was a quiet man. He grew up in the southern states of sunshine and served his time as a radio transmitter in the Korean War. He knew Morris Code by heart--something she always wished he could teach her. He expressed himself through written words and videos he would put together. He had a Bible she never saw, and he wrote poems rarely shared. Yet, his love and compassion was undeniable. No matter how frustrated you were, he was as calm as the setting sun a clear day, and his answer was always the same, "Ah, well you never know what people are dealing with." He learned to work with technology and bought a tablet. He made a facebook and would spend his afternoons watching dog videos and reading news. Working for different TV stations over the years, he had a savvy ability to fix anything electrical, and it was not uncommon for Denise's mom or dad to say, "Hey Dad, can you come over and maybe fix our light?"
He didn't like to talk about his upbringing much, but it didn't seem to matter in the long run. He taught his children discipline, and they always knew he loved them. With Everett, it wasn't always the things he said that impacted them, but it was what he didn't say. Quiet was his companion, as was Max, his little Chihuahua, and after him, Rosie.
Denise thought about the past seventeen years she was blessed to know him. Grandpa was a man she respected, a man she loved with all her heart. He was almost legend to her, and he was her hero in many ways. She romanticized his days in the war as well as his childhood, since his reflections on his past were a rare treat. Denise realized she had taken her grandfather for granted, and now she missed him so much. Even though she knew he was in a better place, she missed him.
She wandered around the dying garden, which he planted and for which he cared. She ambled through the freshly cut grass, which he cut only a few days ago. She flipped through photo albums her grandmother put together, and she smiled at the pictures of Grandpa in his youth. Denise never realized how much she would really miss him. Yet, I suppose no one realizes the pain of death until it comes unexpectedly.
Denise had no regrets. Grandpa was the best grandfather, the best dad, and the best husband. He was a legend, a hero, and a friend. He was a quiet mystery, full of untold and unrevealed stories. Yet, he had passed peacefully, sleeping. There was no better way. His life was full and prosperous in the manner of love and kindness, and his eighty-five years had not been in vain. It was time for him to go home. Denise stood on the porch of her grandparents' home. Grandpa's life had not been easy, but he left a legacy of love, a legacy of kindness and compassion, a legacy worth living.