Grandpa's sign

As you may have guessed, my grandpa Les died last Monday, Jan. 7.


I was holding his hand when he took his last breath. It was sad, yes, and very surreal. He died surrounded by those who loved him, my grandma (his wife of 61 years), two of my aunts, my uncle, my mom and our pastor. I was so glad I was there, to not only say goodbye but those of us who were in that room with him witnessed a miracle as his soul went to Heaven. Believe what you may, but when our pastor led us in The Lord's Prayer, my grandpa's ragged breathing slowed to a peaceful end and his coloring changed ... As we all talked about that moment the next day, every one of us had known that was the moment he left us. I've had a dull ache in my heart ever since, knowing that when I walked out of his room at his nursing home room, that it would be the last time I would see him. My grandma's last words to him were something like, "Now you get some rest, Dad."


I took the week off from work, finished writing his obituary and took many hours finishing the DVD photo slideshow about his life that I started before Christmas ... I stayed up most nights until 4 a.m. finishing it, but the 30-minute show was beautiful, fitting and sentimental. It played on a large 7-foot screen at the visitation and on a TV before the funeral at the church. The funeral director said he's seen a lot of slideshows - they're becoming popular at funerals - but he'd never seen one so well done before. Nice compliment for me. Poor Nels had to spend hours last week making dozens of copies of the show for all my relatives. If I can figure out how to get it on YouTube, I'll post a link to it on my blog.

Nels told me I shouldn't tell the following story to anyone since they'll think I'm strange...but like my BFF said to me when I told her that she said "Yeah, well, we already know you're strange so it's OK." :) A BFF's opinion trumps a hubby's opinion anytime, right?

The night my grandpa died, I was driving home alone and asked outloud for my grandpa to please give me a sign that he's OK. You see, the last couple of years because of his progressive disease, he couldn't really talk, just mumble yes or no, really. His mind remained sharp but his body betrayed him. I felt that if he could just send me a sign that he was OK, it would make me feel better.

I went home, told Nels that he died, then knocked on Erika's door. I hugged and rocked her as she cried in my arms in her doorway after telling her the news. She and grandpa were very close as I've mentioned earlier. The photo posted above is Erika and grandpa at a cousin's wedding, one of my favorites.

Throughout the week, as I scanned photos of my grandpa into my computer and worked on the DVD slideshow I would ask him again outloud if he could just send me a sign that he was OK. That's all I wanted.

We created a table of memorabilia at the funeral home Friday and at the church Saturday, a display of all the wooden sleds, stilts and other wooden items my grandpa had made for all of us over the years (my idea, which seemed crazy at first but was an awesome display). The wooden stilts were lined up in a row - five pairs that me and my cousins could find - with our names painted on them. I also displayed photos that Nels had taken of my grandparents and all their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was nice.

Anyway, after the funeral we headed home to change clothes and planned to go over to my aunt's house. I went into my bathroom to get freshened up and was thinking about how maybe our town's noon horn (which blows at noon and 6 p.m. every day) was a sign from my grandpa. It certainly was a fitting tribute, it blew while my immediate family was standing around his grave. He didn't want Taps to be played but the Color Guard stood at attention nearby. When the short graveside service ended, the horn blew at just the right moment. It was cool ...

Well, I then walked into the kitchen and Erika was sitting on a stool, having poured a large glass of A&W Root Beer, which I was annoyed at because we were just about to leave to go to my aunt's house. I told her to sit right there and chug it ... we had to go.

That's when Erika picked up the piece of flat wood that had her name carved into it from the counter. It had been one of the last things grandpa made for all of us a few years ago, individual wooden signs with all of our names carved and painted on them. I had taken them up to the church for the display.

Erika told me that she knew I had found that sign in her room, which I did. Nels's and my signs were in the garage while hers she had on the second shelf above her bed. She then told me that the sign fell on her the night grandpa died, striking her in the head.

I did a double take as she took a big gulp of her root beer. I asked Erika when exactly had the sign fallen on her and she said about a half-hour after I told her that grandpa had died. I asked if she had moved or touched the shelf and she said she hadn't, that the sign just fell on her.

That's when I realized that grandpa had sent me a sign - an actual sign - but Erika hadn't told me about it. If you knew my grandpa, you'd know that if he could play a prank on Erika, even if he was, um, dead, he would. They had that type of relationship. They loved to tease each other.

I know he's out there somewhere with that familiar twinkle in his eye and smirk on his face, knowing that he had found the very best way to send me the sign I longed for, by bonking his "Putt-Putt" on the head with an actual sign made by his very own hands just for her.

Maybe it was his way of telling Erika, who was grieving, that it was Ok, that he was still here for her.

And I had received the sign I was waiting for.