I feel like I start so many of my posts with "I've been meaning to post about this for awhile..." and it's always true. Even this post I don't quite feel like I'm ready to write, but know that if I wait for the photos I wanted to include or the perfect way to write what I want to convey, it will likely never get done - which just isn't an option for this one.
I wish I could remember my first memory of my Grandpa Woody, but I can't. I wish I had a favorite memory, but I'm not sure I do. I wish I had a closer relationship with him if for no other reason than he was such an intricate part of my California family, and now I don't have the chance. My grandma's second husband, Woody, passed a way a couple weeks ago. I didn't know him very well, my family only made it to California about once every four years when I was younger, and I can't remember him ever making it out to Colorado when Grandma would visit. When we did go to California he mostly stayed to himself and never went on the trips we'd take to Disneyland or the beach. He was always patient when my family of six invaded their small house, but he was always quiet and kind.
I do remember one year specifically when my family went to California for Christmas. One of our traditions is to go to breakfast on Christmas Eve, as we were all gearing up to head out, Grandpa Woody got out of his comfy recliner and walked toward the door announcing he was going to join us. I'm not entirely sure why, but I remember it meaning a lot to all of us. When we finally got to breakfast, he insisted on paying, which again, for whatever reason was extra special. Maybe that's my favorite memory because for that morning, we felt like part of the California family.
I almost always call my Grandma once a week, and Grandpa Woody almost always answered. We'd talk about the weather (sunny Cali, there was rarely any change) and briefly what I've been up to and finally how crazy Grandma was for going out square dancing-again. Usually our conversations were brief, only lasting 2-3 minutes, but the last time I remember talking to him he kept me on the phone. He asked me a lot about my pregnancy and mine and Justin's plans, and before we hung up he said "I love you" which is literally the only time I can remember exchanging that phrase with each other. So I don't have the memories and I can't claim to have had a deep or incredibly meaningful relationship with him, but he'll certainly be missed and I'll always be grateful for how he helped take care of my Grandma and supported my cousins and aunts.
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I haven't been looking at your blog for a little while because of school but normally I check it every week. Grandpa Woody may have not been the most open man, but he was the most loving man I have ever known. Every single time I was about to hang up the phone after talking to him, I would ALWAYS say 'I love you'. And he would always say 'Same here' back to me. You know that Grandpa Woody and I were extremely close so it might be surprising that it was like that between us. But every once in a while, he would say "I love you" back. In his final stay at the hospital, he tried his best to say it every single time I was there that he was awake. And I'm still wearing the gold bracelet he gave me that says "I love you". Okay, there is a point to all of this. If Grandpa Woody says he loves you, he means it. He didn't throw that phrase around lightly and he wouldn't use it unless he absolutely meant it. So don't regret not being able to have spent more time with him because he really did love you. And something you might not know, is that that man was as crazy, if ont crazier, than Grandma. If you want me to I can tell you the stories and jokes I know so that way you'll be subjected to the old fables that I've been hearing for the last seventeen and a half years. Talk to you soon,
Megan
Oh, and Dana, you are very much apart of the California family. Just not the favorite grandkid...I hold that title.
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