Just like everyone on the planet, I had two grandpas. But unlike many, I only ever had the chance to know one of them. My Grandpa B (my father's father) died of cancer when he was just 54 years old...and only a few weeks after my dad returned home from his mission. Therefore I never got to know him. Growing up, I often heard stories. My dad and his two sisters often talked about "daddy", there was always an 8x10 picture of him sitting on my grandma's piano in her front room, and I visited his grave every memorial day with my parents. That was all I ever knew of him.
I'd often look at that picture sitting on the piano and try to envision what life would be like if he were still around. Would he bounce me on his knee, sing me songs, read me stories? In my own little world, I imagined he would do all these things. And it made me miss him, a lot. I always wondered what his voice sounded like. Was it deep and strong, was it gentle and kind? But I knew I'd have to wait out my life before I got the chance to find out.
Flash forward to last Sunday. My dad handed me a flash drive and told me that he digitized a bunch of his old reel-to-reel tapes and cassette tapes and that I could have a copy of them if I wanted. I said "sure" not knowing what they were exactly. I took the drive home, turned on my computer and began to copy. There was my brother's missionary farewell, my Grandma B's funeral, my Grandpa J's funeral, my aunt's missionary farewell, my Grandpa B's funeral. This past week I have listened to them all, laughing and even sometimes crying. Yesterday I came to the last one, my dad's missionary farewell, and took a listen.
And then there it was. My grandpa's voice, as clear as if he were sitting in the room with me. Telling stories about my dad, talking about what a wonderful young man he was and how he was going to be a great missionary and how proud he was of him. Things any father would say to their son who was just about to leave for two years. Tears came into my eyes as I listened because I knew what would be waiting for them when my dad returned home: his father, sick and afflicted with cancer barely hanging on just so he could see his son again. I cried for them.
And then I cried for me. Because after 31 years I finally got to hear my grandpa's voice. And it was beautiful.
10 years ago
6 comments:
what an amazing gift! My grandpa on my dad's side died of cancer, also, when I was not even a year old - so I never got the chance to know him, either! It would be so cool to have something like that!
that is so sweet. What a special experience!
What a great story, I'm wiping the tears from my eyes.
Wow. that is really amazing. The kind of gift most people never get. very cool.
You write beautifully Camille, you really do. I so enjoy reading your posts.
I recognise that I am very fortunate to have known all of my grandparents (I'm lucky enough to still have two), but in the time since their passing the sound of their voices have faded. It's so special that you have had the opportunity to hear your grandpa's voice, and the best part is that you listen to it as often as you want. I think you can tell a lot about someone from their voice. I imagine you feel much closer to him now.
I can really relate to this Camille. I only ever had one grandparent, and really felt the loss. My Dad's mum died when he was 14, so of course I never met her. He was always telling me I reminded him of her. I dont know that I did but he obviously missed her so much I felt it helped him. I would have loved to have known her.
My mum's mum died when I was 2.
I have no memeory of her at all.
My Dad's dad died when i was 7 and i only saw him about 6 times in my life. I can just about recall him.
My mum's Dad I had until i was 18. But he spent a lot of his life in Scotland, so I didnt really see a lot of him.
I have some photos of them all, but nothing in film,and no sound.
I would love to hear their voices.
This is a wonderful thing for you to have. I am sure you will treasure it.
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