This is the tree in Lynnport beneath which I first mourned my Opa's passing. He passed away early Sunday morning. He was in his late 70s and died in his sleep.
My Grammy, Opa's ex-wife and friend, and I were housesitting at my Aunt Cindy's when a call woke me at 8:30 which is early by my standards. Grammy entered my Aunt's bedroom where I was sleeping and said she didn't know how to answer the phone. I answered it and Uncle Steve asked to speak to her.
"Your Opa passed away." The next thing I really remember was holding Grammy while she shook with tears.
The tears didn't come for me.
Shock was all I knew for the next few hours.
We tried calling Aunt Cindy and at first could not get hold of her. Then I called my mother to see when she would be with us because she was supposed to take me home that day. She didn't answer. Whenever we finally heard from her she said she was just then leaving and would be there around 2:30 PM. Grammy and I then travelled half an hour to her house to find my Aunt Louisa's phone number. Aunt Louisa's husband answered and so Grammy left a message.
Back at Aunt Cindy's house around 2, we waited for my mom to show and for Aunt Louisa to call. When mom did arrive, she and my sister were both wearing black dresses. How fitting, I thought. Inside the house, we sat them down, and Grammy said she had some bad news. Vienna half-jokingly asked if Grammy's twin brother had died. Whatever was said next, I don't know, but I'll never forget my mom's reaction to the news.
After Grammy said it, mom screamed. "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" over and over. Her face turned a shade of tomato red and tears streamed down her cheeks. Grammy rose from the arm of the Lay-Z-boy on which she was perched and hugged my mother. "It's ok, he's in a better place," she said. My sister went to the other side of the room and cried. I hugged my mother and wished she would stop.
Aunt Louisa called within moments. Grammy cried with her on the phone until she said "You go ahead. Cry for a while and when you're ready, call me back."
Then I went outside to call my dad back. He'd missed my call at around 11 and called back just when my mom pulled up. So now it was my turn. I dragged a chair from the deck to a shady spot under the tree above. That's where I sat, wishing I could cry. I told my dad the news and about mom's reaction and how I couldn't cry.
The tears finally came yesterday. There were two viewings yesterday; a private family viewing and a public one later that night. It's getting blurry now. The image that sticks with me is of my Uncle Steve, Opa's only son, leaning into the wall, his fist hiding his face from my view, sobbing. I don't know when the tears finally came. But they did.
Today, I sat with my dad through the service and military honors and I cried on his shoulder. He held my hand when I went back inside the building for my last moments with my Opa. I think I will forever be haunted by the feel of his leather hands and the cold, crinkly forehead I kissed.
But sitting beneath that tree, looking out over the valley and countryside, talking to my daddy and wishing I could cry over this loss that has already had such ramifications. It has opened holes in me that I could not have known existed. The loss of a life is something I don't think one ever gets used to. I wish I had more insight about it, but this is all.
