A Tribute

For this Memorial Day, I wanted to write a tribute to my grandfather.  He was born on July 4, 1920 and died of a heart attack on October 20, 1990.  To me, he was my hero, but I regret that I never really got to know who he was.  The two things that I remember the most about him was his laugh and how he smelled when he would come home from work.  He loved the Lord with all of his heart, and he was probably the sweetest man I have ever known.  

The death of my grandfather had a tremendous effect on me.  He was the first person close to me who had died.  It broke my heart, but it was the catalyst for me to learn about who he was before he was my grandpa.  He served as a machinist’s mate in the US Navy during World War 2.  He never talked about his war experiences. My grandmother shared some of his stories with me after he died.  One of the greatest possessions I own is a two inch square diary that he wrote in to document his experiences while he was in the navy.  He wrote it in pencil, and I knew that the pencil would eventually fade, so I transcribed his writings.

I’m not sure whether he volunteered or was conscripted, but he joined the navy in early 1943 after the attack on Pearl Harbor and spent a little over two years in the Pacific campaign against Japan.  I was told a story when I was younger that the ship that he was on was torpedoed and if he had been at his post he would have been killed.  My entire family would never have existed.  After studying his notes and the history,  I found that this story was true. 

As a machinist’s mate he worked in the boiler rooms and engine room of his ship.  He was stationed on the USS Gwin on July 13, 1943 when a Japanese torpedo hit the ship’s engine room and exploded.  There were two officers and 59 men killed in that explosion, but by the grace of God, my grandfather was not one of them.  

I don’t know if, when I go home, I will be able to discuss these things with my grandpa.  But I do know that I will get to know him.  I will know who he is as a person.  As I have gotten older, I am coming to understand that my parents and my grandparents have their own stories.  Their lives were more than just being my parents or grandparents.  They were husbands and wives, mothers and fathers.  They fell in love, had their own strengths and weaknesses, had feelings and beliefs that were their own.  How I miss my grandparents.

After my grandpa died, my grandmother lived for another 26 years.  My grandpa was her soulmate, and she wanted nothing more than to go home to be with him again.  The Lord kept her alive all those years for a reason, but in May of 2016 He finally took her home.  In the last week of her life, I had the opportunity to say goodbye, to look into her eyes and tell her that I loved her.  I also had the opportunity to sit with my Aunt Sally while we sat with my grandmother.  My Aunt Sally told me a little bit about my grandmother’s childhood, how my grandparents met, and about her childhood as well. 

I will cherish that couple of hours for as long as I live, especially since she passed away last September from cancer.  Now my greatest dream is to see them all again, to see them as they are now.  To reunite with them, knowing that we will be together forever.  

On this Memorial Day, I write this tribute to my grandfather with tears in my eyes but hope in my heart. I have no memories of him sharing his faith with words.  His life was his witness.  He lived his life for the Lord quietly but with joy and enthusiasm.  He encouraged me to live my faith by how he lived.  I wish that I could have taken the time to show my grandfather how much I loved him.  But I know that I will see him again.  For now, he is in heaven with my grandmother and one of his daughters.  They are all perfect, living in the presence of Jesus.  I just need to wait to see them all again.

Lord, thank you for my grandfather’s life and influence in my life.  He truly was a man after your heart.  May the day come quickly when my entire family will be reunited with You.