My grandfather was so great. He was a fabulous friend, son, brother, cousin, uncle, husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. In his honor, I want to share a little of his story.
He was adamant about being called Leon. It was his father's {Everett Johnson} middle name, and they were really close. When Grandpa was little, his mom packed up and took him to California. His dad didn't take too kindly to that. Soon, Everett showed up and took Grandpa back to Oklahoma. Everett got remarried to Lucille and they had five more children. Darrell, Carroll, Treva, Terry (T.J.), and Jarold.
He met my grandmother, Jimi Benton when they were in high school. They attended the same church in Oklahoma City. Jimi was a part of the choir, and one day during worship, Everett poked my grandpa in the side, pointed to the beautiful petite young woman singing in the front, and told Leon that he needed to marry her. Little did he know what he was starting.
Their first date was to a malt shop. In the fall of Leon's senior year of high school, they were married. My grammy was 19 at the time, and Grandpa always teased that he loved older women. They had three children; Roberta, Vicki {my mom}, and Mike. They have 6 grandchildren and 2 great-grandsons. Jenni, Karlie, Kyle, Cale, Katie, Me, Caleb, and Parker.
Years before I was born, Leon and Jimi had some trouble with their marriage. They were oficially divorced for 12 years. But neither of them were happy. A year before I came into this world, they fell in love again. Or perhaps they never fell out of love. They married again, and I didn't even know they had been divorced up until after Grammy died.
When I was 2 years old, Grandpa collapsed to the ground while building a pool {his business}. After many visits to many hospitals, it was found that his lungs were full to the brim with blood clots. The doctor was shocked that Grandpa hadn't collapsed earlier or died yet. There is a flap on a baby's heart when they are in the womb that helps them breath until their lungs are fully developed. When they are born, the flap closes. By the grace of God, my grandpa's never closed. That was the only way he had stayed alive for who knows how long.
At the time, surgery to remove the blood clots was extremely experimental. But Grandpa dove in head first. The surgery was successful, except for one thing. When he awoke, he had short term memory loss. Thankfully, he knew who his family was. He had some memories of his childhood and flashes of memories from the past. But that was about it.
Ever since then, I've learned from my grandparents what love truly is. Watching them these last couple of years has taught me more than either of them could ever say. They were dependent upon each other. She guided him day to day, told him anything he needed to know. He physically took care of her. He drove her all around town, bought her anything she wanted. Catered to her every need. That's how they survived. She was the brains, he was the brute.
February 5, 2011 was a sad day. Grammy suffered from kidney failure. The summer of 2010, she fell and broke her hips. Months later, dementia slowly crept in. The day that she passed was sad, but also a bit of a relief. She wasn't herself. Going was the complete healing that only God could give her.
After her memorial service, Grandpa went to live with my aunt and her family for several months. Three months later, he was back home. We would meet him for lunch about every week. But he was so, so lonely. Grammy was his reason to stay alive. She was his purpose.
February 5, 2012. Superbowl Sunday. Our immediate family was lazing away on the couch after the game. Mom got the phone call that Grandpa was being rushed to the hospital. Mom and I jumped into the car and we were there in minutes. Soon, the ambulance carrying Grandpa arrived. My uncle and aunt were right behind him. Uncle Mike said that after the game, as he left to go home, he collapsed and said he couldn't breathe.
Tests were run. Grandpa's lungs were full of clots again. The doctor that performed his first surgery is retired and living in a foreign country. The whole family was there for hours, pacing outside the ER. Doctors eventually came out. They said that surgery at his age was impractical. The original plan was to Lifeflight him to Houston. Uncle Mike and Aunt Dana had already left to make their way to Houston to meet the helicopter. But he was ready to go. By that time, it was just me, my mom and dad, and my cousin Jenni who is a nurse at the hospital. Soon, his heart failed. Doctors and nurses scrambled to revive him. It was chaos.
I buried my face in my hands. Sunk to the floor. My mom and my cousin were sitting on the floor, holding each other, sobbing. I joined them and so did my dad. There we were, one big sobbing mess.
At that moment, I was blessed with something wonderful.
God blessed me with a vision. I watched as Grandpa sauntered his way towards The Pearly Gates. Jesus, Grammy, and Everett were waiting on the other side. He greeted Jesus. Then, Grammy jumped into his arms. He hugged his daddy. Then I was back in the hospital. Nurses came out and told us that the medicine they had given him had restarted his heart, but it would only last a few minutes. We all went in to say one last goodbye, but I knew he was already in Heaven. Still, I watched as the heart monitor slowed. It flatlined, and I ran out of the hostpial and into the cold night air.
These tears that I cry aren't for Grandpa. He is in Heaven, praising God this very minute. He is healed, strong, and gloriously happy. No, these tears are for the pain of seperation from him, until I walk into Heaven myself.
There are things that I will always miss about them. My Grammy's contagious laugh. His smile. Her 4"11 frame. His stocky build. Her hand on mine. His voice calling me "Sweetie". But I know I'll see, feel, and hear all those things again. Just not in this lifetime.
Grammy and Grandpa, thank you for teaching me about love, family, and Jesus. You taught me to be strong no matter how hard the situation is.You showcased faithfullness to God. Most importantly, you loved me. Your love means more than anything else. I love you both so, so much.
Weren't they precious?
Grandpa over the years.
My beautiful family.
Ever since then, I've learned from my grandparents what love truly is. Watching them these last couple of years has taught me more than either of them could ever say. They were dependent upon each other. She guided him day to day, told him anything he needed to know. He physically took care of her. He drove her all around town, bought her anything she wanted. Catered to her every need. That's how they survived. She was the brains, he was the brute.
February 5, 2011 was a sad day. Grammy suffered from kidney failure. The summer of 2010, she fell and broke her hips. Months later, dementia slowly crept in. The day that she passed was sad, but also a bit of a relief. She wasn't herself. Going was the complete healing that only God could give her.
After her memorial service, Grandpa went to live with my aunt and her family for several months. Three months later, he was back home. We would meet him for lunch about every week. But he was so, so lonely. Grammy was his reason to stay alive. She was his purpose.
February 5, 2012. Superbowl Sunday. Our immediate family was lazing away on the couch after the game. Mom got the phone call that Grandpa was being rushed to the hospital. Mom and I jumped into the car and we were there in minutes. Soon, the ambulance carrying Grandpa arrived. My uncle and aunt were right behind him. Uncle Mike said that after the game, as he left to go home, he collapsed and said he couldn't breathe.
Tests were run. Grandpa's lungs were full of clots again. The doctor that performed his first surgery is retired and living in a foreign country. The whole family was there for hours, pacing outside the ER. Doctors eventually came out. They said that surgery at his age was impractical. The original plan was to Lifeflight him to Houston. Uncle Mike and Aunt Dana had already left to make their way to Houston to meet the helicopter. But he was ready to go. By that time, it was just me, my mom and dad, and my cousin Jenni who is a nurse at the hospital. Soon, his heart failed. Doctors and nurses scrambled to revive him. It was chaos.
I buried my face in my hands. Sunk to the floor. My mom and my cousin were sitting on the floor, holding each other, sobbing. I joined them and so did my dad. There we were, one big sobbing mess.
At that moment, I was blessed with something wonderful.
God blessed me with a vision. I watched as Grandpa sauntered his way towards The Pearly Gates. Jesus, Grammy, and Everett were waiting on the other side. He greeted Jesus. Then, Grammy jumped into his arms. He hugged his daddy. Then I was back in the hospital. Nurses came out and told us that the medicine they had given him had restarted his heart, but it would only last a few minutes. We all went in to say one last goodbye, but I knew he was already in Heaven. Still, I watched as the heart monitor slowed. It flatlined, and I ran out of the hostpial and into the cold night air.
These tears that I cry aren't for Grandpa. He is in Heaven, praising God this very minute. He is healed, strong, and gloriously happy. No, these tears are for the pain of seperation from him, until I walk into Heaven myself.
There are things that I will always miss about them. My Grammy's contagious laugh. His smile. Her 4"11 frame. His stocky build. Her hand on mine. His voice calling me "Sweetie". But I know I'll see, feel, and hear all those things again. Just not in this lifetime.
Grammy and Grandpa, thank you for teaching me about love, family, and Jesus. You taught me to be strong no matter how hard the situation is.You showcased faithfullness to God. Most importantly, you loved me. Your love means more than anything else. I love you both so, so much.
Weren't they precious?
Grandpa over the years.
My beautiful family.
