Grandpa,
It’s been nearly 16 years since you left us. I’ve missed you many times. Some things that I have missed: your smile, your pink shirts, your “inappropriate” jokes, raspberries with vanilla ice cream, your haircuts, pan fried trout, corn, ping pong, tennis, checkers, grapefruit, your love of your family, and your stories. I could never name everything I’ve ever missed about you. Thank you for the memories. Right now I want to say a few things about some memories. I’m already crying about it, so please excuse my constant use of tissues.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I said no thank you. I’m sorry I turned you down. The first time I was invited to go fishing with you, just you and me, for a full weekend I turned you down, and I deeply regret that action. You wanted me to go camping with you, leaving Friday night and coming home Sunday night. It was summer. I didn’t have school. I should have jumped at the chance to go, but I didn’t. I turned you down. You brought me fishing once or twice after that, but always grumbled in that grumbling grandpa way about wishing to fish for two full days instead of part of one. (It wasn’t worth it to you to camp for one night.) I can’t imagine how having your grandchild turn down such an opportunity may have felt.
The reason I turned you down haunts me. It hurts just typing this out. As I fight through the tears and blowing my nose, a bi product of the tears and emotion, I have to stop to clean myself up, constantly. I only have so many regrets about my life. My time with you is now fraught with both joy and regret. Out of that regret comes a desire to be better and do better, though I will probably fail as many times as I will succeed.
You weren’t a “black sheep”, but we knew you didn’t believe in god the way the rest of us did.
You didn’t participate in baptisms or priesthood ordinations the way my friends' grandparents did. You didn’t ask us to pray over food, or any time for that matter. You didn’t attend the temple weddings of your older grandchildren. Church just wasn’t important to you.
When we showed up unannounced on Sundays and you didn’t have enough ice cream to go with your plethora of fresh raspberries, it was off to the store for you. Sometimes you would come back with more than just ice crash. You'd have cheese, ham, and bread to make sandwiches to eat before the sweet treat. Mom would usually tell us to not eat the food you had gone to purchase on Sundays. It was breaking the Lord’s day, referred to as breaking the Sabbath (a sin once punishable by death). Eventually she softened and it was ok to partake of the Sunday purchased food, but I was an older teenager when this happened.
Though it’s been over 25 years since I turned down your invitation, the pain is too real. I hope that by writing this down, these words will heal. Time can erase these memories, but I hope it never does. I just want to wipe away these tears, and go fishing with you one last time.
All my life it had been instilled in me that the unseen being named Elohim, commonly referred to as God, was to be the focus in my life. I was groomed to comply. From the time I was a young child I was taught (sometimes with a belt buckle or a piece of sheet metal) that I needed to obey and worship this being. Part of worshiping this being included not going camping or fishing on Sunday, as that was the day to spend worshiping this so-called god. At the age of 12 I was given responsibilities at church. A part of the teachings I was given was that I needed to magnify my calling.
How does one magnify their calling? The simplest explanation is to make sure you always perform your duties, and then do a little bit more. There was nothing more important than fulfilling my duties to this god. This god was to be the most important being in my life. One of those duties was to either prepare, bless, or pass the sacrament, referred to in the Bible as the Lord’s Supper. I don’t recall exactly when this happened, so I can’t say for sure what my duties would have been at the time, but it was to either prepare or pass the sacrament.
Rather than say that somebody else could fulfill my duties so I could go camping and fishing with you, I turned you down. I turned you down so I could fulfill my duty to this god. After talking it over with my parents I turned down time that would have been well spent, learning from a master fisherman and loving grandparent, so I could “properly” worship this god. At the time I knew in my heart that I had done the right thing. It was what Elohim would have wanted me to do.
The good feelings I had of having done what I “knew” to be right told me he was pleased with my actions. These feelings are referred to as feeling the spirit of god. It’s a way church goers can know they are on the right path. It turns out going by feelings are actually a terrible way to know something, and I wish I would have known that then.
I was a teenage boy. I should have been spending time with you rather than worshiping this god. As I have stepped away from the religion of my childhood, I have regretted my actions of that day more than almost any other behavior of my life. Any being worth their salt would not require a teenage boy to worship it over spending time with a loving and selfless grandparent. I’m sorry I said no. I wish I could have that moment back and say yes. I wish I could have had one more fishing trip with you.
I once asked my mother, your daughter, why you didn’t participate in religious activities with us. I asked why you went shopping on Sunday. She said you just didn’t understand god well enough. Since you didn’t have a good enough understanding you chose to disobey.
I never asked you why you didn’t participate. Once when grandma asked my brother and I to give you a blessing you said it seemed like hocus pocus, but to go ahead and do it anyway. I wish I would have asked you why you felt that way. As I am currently the black sheep of my family I can see just how much you would have been excluded from our lives. It was never with the intention of hurting you, but it would have happened.
You were excluded from watching your grandchildren get married. I excluded you from my life so I could please a god. What else did we exclude you from because you didn’t believe like us? How did we treat you differently because of that unbelief? How did that affect the relationship you had with your spouse, your children, and your grandchildren?
I can’t change my decision from that day. If I could, I would. I would take it back. I would spend every weekend I could have with you fishing on Strawberry or Soldier Creek. The time would have been better spent than the time I spent at church and worshiping any god. Thank you for the many wonderful memories. Here’s to the good memories, and healing from those so painful that it hurts to remember them.
