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- Sep 28, 2014
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Well, today I helped carry my grandmother to her final resting place. She lived to the ripe old age of 96, and passed peacefully on Christmas Eve. She lived a full and happy life, but she suffered from Alzheimer's for the last ten years or so, and while it was hard to see her go, I couldn't help but be happy that she was finally free of all that, and reunited with her husband, my grandfather, who has been gone a full twenty years now. (I was only in middle school when he died.)
The funeral was held in South Carolina, in the very small town where she was born and raised, at the same church where she was baptized 96 years ago. She was laid to rest beside her husband, and within sight of her parents and brother who went before her.
When I was packing for the trip, I started to take the brand new GEC Coyote I just got, to carry in my suit pocket for the funeral. But, then I had a better idea.
This is my Grandaddy's Victorinox Recruit. It is one of several pocket knives he owned when he died, but it was the one I always remember him using. The scales were chewed up by a pet Dachshund who is now long gone. I hadn't even seen this knife for many years since he died, but I recently thought to ask my mom what had happened to all of his old folders. She said she had a few, and that I was welcome to take one if I wanted, so it has been mine for about a year now.
So, that chewed up old Recruit made one last trip back to its old stomping grounds, only in a different pocket. And it was with me as I carried the head of the casket, to bring Grandaddy's sweetheart back to him for good. I think he would be glad.
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The funeral was held in South Carolina, in the very small town where she was born and raised, at the same church where she was baptized 96 years ago. She was laid to rest beside her husband, and within sight of her parents and brother who went before her.
When I was packing for the trip, I started to take the brand new GEC Coyote I just got, to carry in my suit pocket for the funeral. But, then I had a better idea.
This is my Grandaddy's Victorinox Recruit. It is one of several pocket knives he owned when he died, but it was the one I always remember him using. The scales were chewed up by a pet Dachshund who is now long gone. I hadn't even seen this knife for many years since he died, but I recently thought to ask my mom what had happened to all of his old folders. She said she had a few, and that I was welcome to take one if I wanted, so it has been mine for about a year now.
So, that chewed up old Recruit made one last trip back to its old stomping grounds, only in a different pocket. And it was with me as I carried the head of the casket, to bring Grandaddy's sweetheart back to him for good. I think he would be glad.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
