This website started on the tail end of a log, a memoir of sorts, which began more than a year ago, 28 August 2006, to be exact. The book I was writing in quickly turned political, and from that was born this website, due to the efforts of my cousin, Brian Howe, a longtime web editor. On this website, I’ve been able to opine on a range of topics, almost always political, because that’s where my brain is most of the time. A lot of posts I have started don’t make it to the website, though, because the ideas explode and are unmanageable. Also, as I’ve said before, it’s good to look back and see how much you’ve changed, some good, some bad. Rarely does my website ever turn personal, though. Last month when it did, my mother posted a reply that helped. We all need help from time to time.
With this post, I want to take the website to a personal level again. First off, my cousin is now a web editor for Livestrong.org; I know that the loss of our grandfather, my mother’s father, to cancer was a factor in his decision to work for this great organization. Grandpop died in June 2004, three months to the day after he found out he had lung cancer. I had a dream in the summer of 2006 while Hannah and I lived in South Carolina that prompted me to start writing in the book in the first place, as to not forget things like this. This post is dedicated to my mom, Hannah, Brian, and Grandpop. Thanks for the help.
18 October 2006… There are 365 (and a quarter) days in a year – one of those days will be the day you die – the eventual anniversary of your death. For Grandpop, it was June 11, 2004. What will mine be? What will yours be?
Grandpop. I’m reminded of a dream I had a couple of months back. I’m in the woods, walking calmly under a canopy – shaded on a brisk sunny day – and it’s not in the Big Thicket in deep East Texas. It’s more like the Maryland-style trees, ones you can actually walk amongst – oak and maple trees, some with white peely bark. Anyway, leaves of red, orange, and yellow cover the ground, and I’m walking by myself and I see him – Grandpop. I make my way over to him and he is how I remember him from my youth; strong, tan, in a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, in a pair of carpenter’s jeans.
I see his arms – I won’t forget the way his arms look, skinny and veiny, mainly because I see them on myself when I look at my own arms. I walk up to Grandpop and hug him and ask, “How have you been?” He says he’s been good, really good. We walk together in the woods. I mention that the woods “reminds me of a place in Orange (Texas) where I used to run, and you were there… it was before… before you got sick. Do you know what I mean?” He looks at the ground, at his feet rustling through the leaves, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, nods slowly, and says in his classic, Grandpop style, “Yeah… yep, I know what you mean.” He looks at me and smiles – his real teeth.
I never knew Grandpop with his real teeth. I was awestruck from a young age when I would go into his bedroom early in the morning. He was already up and moving, but his teeth weren’t – they were in a glass of water on the bedside table. So I noticed his real teeth. I also noticed his upright stance, and a little more weight being carried in his upper body.
What exactly was going on here? (I think I must have been dreaming of his heavenly body, his new form, perfected in Christ). Where were we? I wanted to stay, but I knew I couldn’t. Then Hannah called out to me, to us. I looked over, through the trees, and saw her standing on the deck behind a two-story house I had never seen before – she was announcing a meal had been prepared – “Supper’s ready” or something to that effect. I asked Grandpop if he’d like to eat. He said for me to go ahead, that he’d be there in a bit.
I began to move towards the deck, but looked back to see Grandpop looking at the leaves and thoroughly enjoying his time in the woods. Then I woke up.
I believe God allowed me to dream this, to experience this to be comforted in a sit, and, possibly, to catch a glimpse of what Heaven is like. Was this Grandpop’s Heaven? Outside, in the woods, quietly observing all around him, amongst the bright fallen leaves? His Heaven? Knowing Grandpop, it makes perfect sense to me.