December...
Wow, a rough couple of weeks.....
Shortly before Thanksgiving my husband's grandpa had a stroke. He was in Arizona visiting with some friends.
Strokes are odd. We were getting an hour by hour play by play of Grandpa's status. First it didn't look good, then he was getting better, then he took a downfall, then he got better....this went on for nearly a week.
Thanksgiving night, my husband drove to Arizona with his cousin to see their grandpa. The following Saturday, they brought him home to Fairview, Utah, because the doctors said there was nothing they could do. The stroke had left him paralyzed on his right side and had damaged his organs. He couldn't eat, and his living will stated that he didn't want to remain alive by artificial means, so a feeding tube was out of the question. He died Monday, November 28th, 2005.
Wendell Locke was one of the neatest people I had ever met. When my husband took me to meet him shortly before we were married, he met me with open arms and a giant hug. And he was like that every time I saw him. If I was ornery, or angry, or sad, I knew I could always count on him to make me feel better.
He was a Navy SeaBee in World War II. He used to tell me a story about how he was on a ship in Okinawa and the Japanese planes were flying so close he could see the instrument panel. The morning that happened he had drunk some orange juice for breakfast. Then the waves in the ocean were so bad that it made him sick. Ever since then he could never drink orange juice!
In Fairview, he had a ranch with many horses. I'm a horse fanatic. Whenever I wanted to see the horses he'd go out with me and tell me their names and funny stories about them. It didn't matter if they were in the far pastures. We'd just hop in his Chevy and we'd drive over the sagebrush out to them. He knew when every one of the colts was born, who they belonged to, and everything else. He was a horse whisperer, for sure. He could walk up to any one of those horses and they'd just stand there and let him walk right up to them. He had a calming influence with everything and everyone.
He taught me how to drive a tractor. He taught me how to build a fence. He taught me about irrigation, caring for horses, and how to be a better person. He taught me a lot about my husband, and why he does some of the dumb things he does. (Just kidding, honey, you know I love you.) And he taught me that no matter how idiotic some people are, they're still people, and you just take them with a grain of salt. (That's a story about my husband's step-father, and when I'm in a downright evil mood I will clue you in on that whole situation.)
I will miss him. Very much. At the funeral one of my husband's cousins played taps, and military rites were carried out. I'd never seen that before.
I feel truly blessed to have been able to be in the presence of such a man. And I look forward to the day when I will see him again.
Shortly before Thanksgiving my husband's grandpa had a stroke. He was in Arizona visiting with some friends.
Strokes are odd. We were getting an hour by hour play by play of Grandpa's status. First it didn't look good, then he was getting better, then he took a downfall, then he got better....this went on for nearly a week.
Thanksgiving night, my husband drove to Arizona with his cousin to see their grandpa. The following Saturday, they brought him home to Fairview, Utah, because the doctors said there was nothing they could do. The stroke had left him paralyzed on his right side and had damaged his organs. He couldn't eat, and his living will stated that he didn't want to remain alive by artificial means, so a feeding tube was out of the question. He died Monday, November 28th, 2005.
Wendell Locke was one of the neatest people I had ever met. When my husband took me to meet him shortly before we were married, he met me with open arms and a giant hug. And he was like that every time I saw him. If I was ornery, or angry, or sad, I knew I could always count on him to make me feel better.
He was a Navy SeaBee in World War II. He used to tell me a story about how he was on a ship in Okinawa and the Japanese planes were flying so close he could see the instrument panel. The morning that happened he had drunk some orange juice for breakfast. Then the waves in the ocean were so bad that it made him sick. Ever since then he could never drink orange juice!
In Fairview, he had a ranch with many horses. I'm a horse fanatic. Whenever I wanted to see the horses he'd go out with me and tell me their names and funny stories about them. It didn't matter if they were in the far pastures. We'd just hop in his Chevy and we'd drive over the sagebrush out to them. He knew when every one of the colts was born, who they belonged to, and everything else. He was a horse whisperer, for sure. He could walk up to any one of those horses and they'd just stand there and let him walk right up to them. He had a calming influence with everything and everyone.
He taught me how to drive a tractor. He taught me how to build a fence. He taught me about irrigation, caring for horses, and how to be a better person. He taught me a lot about my husband, and why he does some of the dumb things he does. (Just kidding, honey, you know I love you.) And he taught me that no matter how idiotic some people are, they're still people, and you just take them with a grain of salt. (That's a story about my husband's step-father, and when I'm in a downright evil mood I will clue you in on that whole situation.)
I will miss him. Very much. At the funeral one of my husband's cousins played taps, and military rites were carried out. I'd never seen that before.
I feel truly blessed to have been able to be in the presence of such a man. And I look forward to the day when I will see him again.
posted by The SnowFlake at 7:25 PM
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