Saying Goodbye to Grandpa Asay

Maren, Matt, Dad, Me, Mom

It was only six weeks ago that Grandma died. But when I received the message that Grandpa had also passed, it felt like only a week or two had gone by. So it was off to Medford again.

Everything about this trip felt like before, except the weather: 50 degrees cooler, and the rain and cooler air had re-colored the valleys with vibrant greens, bold yellows, and burning reds. I also decided to make this a quicker trip: drive down Thursday afternoon, head home Friday evening--just taking care of business and nothing more.

Moroni keeping watch always

My sister Maren's in-laws once again kindly put me and my brother and sister up for the evening at their house in Medford, and after meeting up with them there (we arrived about 30 minutes within each other, even though they had departed super early from Salt Lake City), we ventured out into town for dinner with my parents, who had also just arrived from SLC, and some of my aunts, uncles, and long-lost cousins--and some of their kids, too. It was good to see everyone again, despite the circumstances. We headed home after dinner and turned in relatively early-not hard after enduring a long drive.

The next morning I packed up what few things I had, shared breakfast and conversation with my adopted mother-in-law, then drove to the church in Central Point. We arrived somewhat early, so I spent a few minutes trying to capture some of the mystique of the fog and fall colors surrounding Moroni atop the Medford Temple. Maybe I was just stalling to avoid saying good-bye to Grandpa. But I eventually found my way in and headed to the family room where Grandpa was finally resting in peace. Seeing Grandpa shocked my system at first, and it took a few minutes to acclimate to being there with him in his new state. I sat in the back row of the viewing room--traditional spot for our family--and talked with my family while waiting for the ceremony to start.

Brothers and sisters

I wasn't on the program this time, so I was able to sit at ease, focused on my mourning, trying to immerse myself in the feeling of the situation. I felt kind of bad for Grandma, as fewer people attended her funeral services, and she had only half the number of speakers as Grandpa had--maybe that was Grandpa's reward for outliving her. Regardless, my emotions overwhelmed me again, without warning or planning, and I didn't even bother trying to sing--not a good combination for me, I'm learning. Yet I felt more at ease and peace than before--probably because I didn't have to worry about one of my grandparents being alone and trying to cope with that. After the service, I proudly helped carry Grandpa out to his last car ride. The five in my family who were able to make it to the funeral all packed in my parents' Subaru and followed the procession to Grandpa's final resting place. We went through the same ritual as with Grandma: we placed flowers that represented each direct descendant of theirs on the casket, watched the workers lower it under the ground, and witnessed those same workers fill up the hole with a couple trailer-loads of Western Eden's soil.

Capping a life well-spent

We returned to the church for a brief lunch, group photo, and then headed back to Grandpa's house for one last family gathering. We also started to loot the place--but in a dignified, calm manner. I chose a few books that I thought my family would have interest in, as well as some other trinkets that I thought would help preserve the impact that my grandparents had had on me. I was also surprised to find that grandpa's wood shop had been all patched up. My Uncle Don related that he had some help from some of the locals in finishing the roof and doors that had been destroyed by a tree that fell during a fierce wind storm the previous winter. Grandpa was so distraught at his shop nearly being destroyed, and Don told me that after they had put the finishing touches on the restoration, Grandpa was able to go out there one last time to "work" in his shop before he finally passed. My Aunt Char also related that me and my siblings visit last time had left Grandpa feeling so uplifted he couldn't stop talking about us for over a week. Not that it was any great effort on our part to spend those few hours with him, but I felt so blessed to have taken that opportunity and, more importantly, that it had stuck with Grandpa for at least a short while, and helped ease his transition to the next life.

Mourning my way

I had promised Meg that I would be home by Friday night, but it was so hard to pull away from the people I love, in a place that we had forged so many lasting and true memories. I kept telling myself I'd leave in 30 minutes, but I kept putting it off, not wanting to say good-bye, not wanting to cut of the nostalgia that bore me up all trip-long. But after the darkness began overpowering the light of day, I gave my final hugs to all who cared, and drove home in darkness and rain. Maybe it was the throwback Pepsi, maybe it was singing along to my Zune-tunes, but my 5-hour drive flew by without care or incidence, capping my life experience with a great man I'll remember fondly and forever.