René LeBlanc
My grandfather passed away today. He was ninety-four years old. I can't be in the country for his funeral, but I did get to see him one more time before I came back to Asia. His death does not come as a shock to me. At that age I think that most people are ready for it. I know that I was. And yet as I sit and think about my grandfather and the times I remember spending with him, I can’t help but feel that I hardly knew him.
I grew up in Calgary and my grandparents lived in Edmonton and Canmore. Though Canmore is a quick drive from my city I never did find much time to make it out there to visit them. What memories I do have of my grandfather are peripheral to the activity that was taking place all around him.
I have memories of holiday gatherings at my grandparents’ house. And I have even more memories of my grandfather being present at various weddings, anniversaries and funerals. In all of my memories I know he was at these events, and yet I can barely remember him solidly and totally.
My memories of my grandfather come to me in waves of color.
Blue – The color of these t-shirts he wore and that I wanted to wear as well so that I could be like him.
Gold – The color of my grandparents’ living room in my memory and more significantly the chair my grandfather stoically occupied at all family gatherings.
Brown & Pink – My grandparents have this painting of a young girl carrying a spoon in a pink (and possibly muddy dress). I always think of this painting when I think of my grandparents. It holds memories of weekends spent at their place and of nights sitting and watching TV with them.
Grey – My grandfather used to feed these ducks that always visited a stream near his trailer in Canmore. He had a bucket of feed and he would go out and scatter some food for the ducks. The grey is the color of the gravel he scattered the seed on and the color of the water as it rushed by.
Teal – The color of his car. My grandfather continued to drive well into his old age. Their were a few iffy moments where I’d hold a door handle in fear, but the fact that he was still driving just showed his tenacity and spirit that he maintained until the time of his passing.
Yellow – This is the color of the walls (as I remember them) of the unit in the hospital where my grandfather lived out his remaining years. It may not be a pleasant memory, but it is still one more moment I could share with my grandfather.
This is the way I remember my grandfather. This is not to say that I don’t remember the way he looked as I grew up, but when I think back to the times I was around him I get an overwhelming sense of color. There are many more colors that will always bring a flash of a memory of him, but these colors mean the most to me.
When I grew up my grandfather was always the patriarchal figure that I learned to respect and fear. He had a stern face, and kind eyes. He was the leader of his house, but he never was too busy to lend a kind ear to anyone wanting to talk to him. And this is something that I wish I’d done more of. Because of my fear of my grandfather’s presence I don’t think I spent much time talking with him and sharing my life with him. Even as I knew his time was getting shorter I still found it hard to open up and share myself with this man I knew to be important in my life.
Five years ago, before I came to Taiwan for the first time. I was told to go and see my grandfather for what might have been the last time. It wasn’t easy to talk to him as we’d never really talked before, but I did it because I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to say goodbye to someone (I’d missed that chance with my great-uncle and I never want that feeling again). I came to Taiwan and spent a year and when I went back to Canada, he was still alive and kicking.
I went back to Canmore to visit him again. My mom took my grandmother to the dentist and my grandfather and I were alone to talk for two hours. It was a difficult time for me. I had never really been exposed to the effects old age has on a person’s mind and it drained and saddened me to talk to my grandfather for two hours and only answer the five different questions he kept posing to me. Despite this feeling of gloom it was still nice to have sat and spent time with him.
I came to Asia for another year.
My next vacation in Canada my visit to my grandfather was not as easy on me. By this time my grandfather was living in the hospice care at the hospital. It was hard on me to see the environment that he lived in and even harder to make sense of the fact that the person in front of me was still my grandfather despite what may be happening in his mind. That summer I thought would be my last time to see him.
The summer of 2005 I couldn’t take it. I was back in Canada and again was told to visit my grandfather. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to sit and talk to him and think (again) that this was the last time I would ever get the chance to see him. I’d made my goodbyes in my mind and heart 3 times before that. I couldn’t imagine going to see him and trying to convince myself that everything is going to be ok.
I came back to Taiwan and sometimes wondered if I was going to regret this decision. But fortunately I was given another chance. In December 2006 it was my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and my grandfather left the hospital to come join the family in our celebration. I was given another chance to talk to him. I talked to my grandfather and hoped that he knew who I was, but I couldn’t be sure if the glimmer in his eye was recognition of just his hope that I wouldn’t realize he didn’t know who I was.
That party was the last time I saw my grandfather alive and I am thankful to have been given that moment.
With my grandfather’s passing I know that he lived a full and successful life. He has a huge family of loving and caring people to carry on his name and he will always be in my memory.
