Forgiving My Dead Grandpa (Papa)

And a lesson on forgiving that I learned too late…

In memory of my Papa…

The Beginning

My grandfather and I were always different. He was an outdoors man. I was an indoors man. He loved to be loud. I was shy. He loved dangerous activities. I loved safer things. I was always organized and dressed nicely, while he pretty much wore anything that would clothe you for the days activities.

But when I saw my Papa, or went to my grandparents house, Papa always exposed me to something wild. He would take me to the creek and make me walk on a plank over the water. He encouraged sports and going out in the outdoors. He showed me his tool shed and all of the aspects of that. And yes, I definitely had aspects of this in my actual father, but the relationship is still different from Father — Son and Grandpa — Grandson.

Papa and my Grandma (who I nicely call “Grandma”) lived in a big house with a lot of people in it. This usually lead to a lot of commotion. My grandparents loved having the family around and talking almost to a fault. In fact, to a fault. And yes, there were bad moments, but I was young, and what was “wrong” was usually protected from me.

But still, I remember him. I remember those times. I remember that house. I remember the commotion. But I also remember when it all stopped.

Rumor has it…

What I didn’t realize over time though was that the relationship between my immediate family and my grandparents was fading. My grandparents never really approved of the relationship between my mother and father. For one, my Papa wanted my Dad to become a CEO following very specific paths. He wanted my Dad to be single for a long time and marry one of their family friends. They would make up rumors about my mother and rag on her, but my father always protected her. And my mom knew that by being with my father, she would have to sacrifice.

Love, if anything, is sacrifice. Sacrifices of attention, time, commitments, and so much more. And while it is foolish to think that you can maintain love without sacrifice, too many people sacrifice more than they should: They sacrifice themselves. This is what I believe to have happened to my Papa and father.

My grandmother had been spreading rumors that were toxic. These ended up leading to affairs in other siblings and rifts in the family. My Dad started to see how my grandparents beliefs in how the world should work was leading to destruction. And I believe that my father knew he could not remain the relationship style he had as their son whilst also keeping his relationship as a husband and father.

That is when my father did something that is inexplicably self-less. He chose to be a father and a husband first. He chose to stay himself rather than change and lead a life of love and support rather than lead a life of chaos and destruction. He took up a cross so that we (my sister, mother, and I) didn’t have to. Considering the fact that I have a really great relationship with my father, I could not begin to fathom that. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt. As I saw my Dad going through that pain, I made a decision too. I blamed my grandfather and grandmother.

Rebirth

Over time, relationships started to be re-formed. People started to talk to each other again and the torch of old relationships was retrieved from its low points.

I started to hear more about my grandparents and what was happening with them. But for every step forward, I felt like we took a solid 5 backwards. We saw them only a few times and I can’t speak to the detail of the relationship from others’ perspectives, but my own was not good. I was older then and more conscious of the situation which made my hate grow more. My Papa never really talked to me much after that and my grandmother, well, never did in the first place. Even when I saw her one time after not talking to her for years, she didn’t ask about me once.

But over time, my family and I just decided to have a relationship with them. It all changed with a trip to Indiana. It was the first time that I really started talking to them again and we had a really good time. I didn’t recognize my grandfather at all. He was interested in me, asking questions, and curious. And it also culminated in a conversation I will never forget. You see, I avoid my father’s family like the plague because frankly, they make me a worse person. So when they all came over (to my grandparents house) for dinner, I got a plate and went outside. I was eating with my cousin for a few minutes until the door opened and my grandfather walked out. Within a few minutes, my cousin went back in because he was bored. So there I was, my grandfather and I, with a very bad relationship, sitting across from each other.

And so we started talking. He was so interested in me and started telling me that I shouldn’t just chase money even though that was what my earlier impression of him was. He made me want to think more about my own beliefs and ideals. He spoke about my own father and about families. We talked as if we had known each other for a long time. And for a long time, I did not speak of this. I didn’t want anybody to tell me something to take away from how special that conversation was. I just wanted to have my moment with my grandpa. This was pretty lucky because it would really be my last.

The last experience I had with my grandfather was a simple one. I started carrying a handkerchief around lately. I learned that he did too. So, I reached out to him and asked about it. We joked. It was nice. He mentioned he loved me, a new emotion for him and I, and all seemed good. He died shortly thereafter. And even though he is in the ground right now, that handkerchief I talked to him about is in my back pocket. And I am reminded each day of the lessons from this story and beyond as I feel it. He is with me still in spirit through that handkerchief, from the lessons I have learned, from my father, and from the way that I live my life.

Forgiveness is Damn Hard

During the middle of this year, I made the choice to become a Christian. Even though I was raised in the church, I do not think I ever truly dove into my faith and developed a relationship with Jesus. But, times have changed.

And one of the things that I have learned is that Christianity is not truly free. While anybody can call themselves a Christian, truly following Christ demands action. And one of those actions is to forgive.

Now, everybody always talks about forgiveness as if it is something that is so easy. As if it is a cheat code that releases your heart. Nowadays, people say “I forgive you” at the drop of the hat with no real meaning. Because while they speak with their words, their hearts remain unchanged. But in coming to Christ, I have learned something else: hate begets hate. When you open your heart to hate, more than you wanted always seeps in.

This all hit me fairly hard during my Papa’s funeral. Because I realized then and there that I had never forgiven my Papa for all of those things. And besides the sadness from my Dad, I shed a few tears on the realization that I had missed. I thought that my hate for him would be buried alongside him. But then I remembered the words of Jesus and the church: forgiveness is never too late. There are a few actual verses and quotes, but that is the gist.

And so as I looked into where his eyes were shut, I got on my knees and I told him that I forgave him. I went through the roster of things that he had done and prayed that I would be expunged of the hate I had had. I prayed that he too would be released of that burden. And just like that, I felt as if a weight was lifted off his chest. I had never publicly said I had forgiven him, but my heart had spoken. Therefore, I now believe that forgiveness is not with your words, but your heart.

But do not take this for granted. It may seem simple, but it was one of the hardest things I have had to do. To truly forgive means to come to terms with what happened. And…as time passes, I continue to learn more and more of his actions that have caused so much wreck. Even so, it washes over me like a wave on a beach. I already forgave him. I forgave him for everything that he did. And that includes consequences of actions.

Before I continue, one other note…

A day or so after his burial, I decided to drive my Grandmother to the burial site. If from the story you have the impression that my Papa and I had a bad relationship, keep in mind that I had virtually none with my Grandma and just as much, if not more, hate. I didn’t want her to come. I wanted to go alone so that I could reflect on this new feeling of forgiveness. But, she wanted to go, and I didn’t want to leave her.

I am convinced that my grandma talked to me more in that ride than ever in my life. She was broken. But, so are all of us. And as we arrived and she walked around the burial site, I felt that same presence come over me like a wash. That is when I forgave her too. I heard a voice in my head say, “before it’s too late.”

My grandma and I did something on that ride back that I had never done before: we laughed. We joked. We had a great time and it was hilarious. She is still the same person, but I’m not. I had some newly found space in my heart, and I wanted some memories for that new void.

I am so thankful to God that I was able to forgive her.

And I am so thankful to God that I was able to forgive him.

The Greatest Gift

But my grandfather also gave me a gift before his passing that I heard about afterwards. As previously mentioned, we had gone to see him before he passed away. We had such a wonderful time. It was like a different person. For the first time I heard that he loved us and I even talked to him for several hours which is a lot more than 0 minutes.

But, that was not the greatest gift of all. That came after his death.

When I was in Indiana with him, I was watching after my cousins and taking care of them, a job that my Papa took the brunt of. He took the time to relax and walk with my mother when he told her something. He said to her something that means the world to me. And after his passing, she mentioned it to me. He said,

He’ll be a good dad one day.

It makes me sad every time that I hear it because while my grandfather saw me as a leader, as a student, as a son, and more, he will never see me as a Dad. And while he did say that he is so proud of my father and how he is a better man that he ever was, he will never see my dad as a grandpa. He will never see the business that my Dad and I plan to start. He will never see the world we will build together.

It’s easy to be mean about a person after they’re gone because they can’t defend themselves. I implore you, and I implore myself, to remember the lessons we’ve learned, even through the bad moments. Because that is one of the greatest things I have learned about God. He’s the goodness in the greatness moments and the grace in the bad.

Open your heart to forgiveness. You’ll be shocked with how much space you’ll have afterwards.

NS