The Old Man...(My Grandfather's Death)

This was written from memories of events that occurred when I was a small child. These memories were recalled through many sessions of self-hypnosis.

 

                                                      The Old Man 

        (My Grandfather's Death)

 

     My uncle Joe was a very happy, fun sort of fellow. Everyone liked him and although my daddy didn't really like my mommy's family coming over he was always glad to see my uncle Joe. He had a way about him that attracted everyone. His smooth southern drawl made him sound kind and pleasant, and so he was.

     One hot August night he and some friends were drinking and hanging out down by the water. They all decided to go for a mid-night swim. So they stripped off their cloths and dived into the cold water. Minutes later they were all back on shore shivering and grabbing for their cloths. That is everyone except for my uncle Joe.

     The search went on all night and finally the authorities were called in. By dawn's early light he was found just under the surface of the water clinging to the root of a tree that protruded form the side of the riverbank.

     A family tragedy to be sure, however it triggered a chain of events, that's ripples are felt in the family's lives even to this day. Personally I have had 2 sons die from tragic events one at 19 the other at 20. A very sad situation indeed, I being only a small child at the time had no idea how it effected others. I have not had much contact with that part of the family since we moved to California in 1967 with a short stay in Phoenix, Arizona from August of 66 to January of 67.

     A year or more went by after Joe's death. I remember hiding in a cedar chest, during a game of hide-n-seek, that contained some of his old shirts and I thought that he would've found me there. The shirts were black or brown with gold and silver highlights and stiff collars. Granny used to say that he wanted to look like "Elvis," and that he did! He'd been a young, thin dark haired man with a charm that attracted more than one of the ladies. Although his eyes weren't blue they were the softest chocolate brown one could imagine and of course that sweet, smoky southern drawl of his could "curl a-girls-toes," or so it's been said.

     When I was about 6 or 7 years old my grandfather came to visit. It was a strange visit in that my mom and the rest of the family went to visit granny while I stayed in Michigan with grandpa or "The Old Man" as everyone else called him. His real name was Elbert Soard and he was 1/4 Seminole Indian.

     Grandpa still showed some signs of once being a very attractive and charming young man. His chocolate brown eyes were now a bit faded and his dark hair was nearly gone except for a ring of short salt-n-pepper tufts that encircled his weary head. His once smiling face had deep careworn ruts and his sweet, soothing southern drawl was starting to crack a bit.  Not unlike an old Blues man that had sung one too many sad songs. He looked as if he had carried the world upon his shoulders for many years and was growing fatigued from the burden. I was just a child but I felt so strongly for this poor man who had always done the very best he could.

     I didn't have any idea why this strange vacation was going on … I mean my folks and brothers and sisters go to Kentucky to visit on grandpa's and granny's farm but grandpa and I are in Michigan? I just didn't get it then. I really didn't get it at all. However I was glad to have grandpa all to my self.

     I should mention that my granny thought that I had some sort of special gift because I could speak clearly and intelligently by the age of 3. I had attended church with her and even spoke as well as sang hymns from the pulpit. However my dear father taught me some naughty limericks and I had repeated them to the folks at church. She never took me there again. I'm sure that it was granny's idea for the visit:

the perceived, "special gift" not the limericks. (Tee hee!)

     Whenever it was it turned out to be a real adventure in deep communication and respect for me and my dear grandfather. Every morning for nearly a week or so I'd wake up to the smell of fresh perked coffee and burnt toast.

     When I asked grandfather why he always seemed to burn my toast he'd reply, "It'll put hair on your chest. Eat it!"

     So I did! I really didn't understand why I would want a hairy chest, but I ate every bit that he had so lovingly made for me (It was only years later, when I met and married my handsome, "HAIRY" husband Daniel that I appreciated having hair on my chest… his of course!)

     One morning as I awoke I didn't smell the burnt toast or fresh perking coffee. I got dressed and ran to the kitchen. There was a pan of hot water on the stove and an open jar of instant coffee sitting on the counter. But where was grandpa? I opened the back door and walked into our back yard. There at our picnic table under the old elm tree sat grandpa, cup in hand and a hand rolled "Bull Durm" cigarette between his fingers.

     He sat there with a forlorn look upon his careworn face. I slowly approached, climbed onto the table top and placed a small hand on his sloped shoulder. He began to softly weep, "Maggie girl I don't know what I'm gonna do. Your granny is driving me crazy with grief over Joe's death and I have just learnt from the doctor that I have terminal lung cancer."

     I cupped his face in my hands and told him, "Granny's going to be just fine. She loves the attention that she gets. But I'm worried about you! Have you told her yet?"

     "She says that you're gonna help me. That's why I'm here!" he responded.

     Help you? I thought how the heck is a little girl supposed to do that??? Granny has definitely gone off of the deep end on this one!

      I looked into his once sparkling brown eyes I smiled and said, "I can't stop you from going to meet your maker. It must be your time or the good Lord wouldn't be calling you home. But what I can do is make your time here a bit more pleasant."

     I took him by the hand and we walked into the woods behind the shed. It was full of life. The birds were singing and the berries were starting to bloom. I giggled as I picked a blossom from a small nearby cherry tree that grew just beyond where daddy had dug our new septic tank. I tagged his knee and sprightly said, "You're it!"

     He chased me through the woods in a fine game of tag. We bobbed in and out of the trees as the game progressed. Suddenly he was gone! I turned to search for him just as he tagged me and shouted, "TAG YOU'RE IT!"

     I giggled with glee that grandpa had forgotten his woes for a time and decided to just enjoy the warmth of the day and a rousing game of tag. As I chased after him it seemed that he was getting smaller. Was he getting that far ahead of me? I caught a glimpse of him as he slinked out from behind an old white pine that grew nearer the river. His hair seemed to be long and black hanging nearly to his bare waist. He…he was a young Seminole boy again running through the woods hooping and hollering, "Ya can't catch me!"

     I stopped dead in my tracks. What was going on here? I wondered for a moment then he shouted for me and again the chase was on!

     We played in the woods for most all of the morning and well into the late afternoon, what a joyous time we had! I began to get hungry and a bit tired. So motioning toward the house I yelled, "I'm gonna get some food. Would you like to eat?"

     I ran to the house, into the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator door. There I found some hot dogs celery and cheese. I bundled them in my arms and went out the back door to the picnic table that sat under the twisted old elm tree.

     Upon exiting the house with arms filled with food I saw at the corner of my eye a fire being started with some twigs. I put the food on the table and went to the young Seminole boy who was starting the fire with grandfathers Zippo lighter. As the fire took blaze I went to the edge of the woods and found some sticks that were appropriate to the task of roasting the hot dogs.

     We roasted the whole pack and ate the wedge of cheese down to a mere morsel. The celery we had for desert after retrieving a jar of Skippy peanut butter from the kitchen cabinet.

     "That was quite a feast!" said the old man who sat at the edge of the burning embers of our roasting fire, where a young Seminole boy had once been.

     It was time to rest. We only had a day or two left before my folks would come home and grandfather would have to return once again to his farm in the Smokey Mountains of  old "Kintuck".

     The next day was wondrous! We woke at the crack of dawn and went to the river with a can of worms and our fishing polls to do some fishing. The fish weren't biting much so we passed the time by shaping some willow branches into bows and arrows. This young brave who called himself Soared Swiftly was smart and playful. On the way back to the house he managed to shoot a rabbit with his make-shift weaponry and we headed to the shed to skin and clean it up for supper.

     It was nearly dusk when the rabbit roast was ready for consumption. However I couldn't bring myself to eat it and made my dinner from bread and Skippy. We ended this feast with some home canned apple sauce that granny had sent up with the old man.

     As the stars began to appear in the sky we lay on our backs in the soft grass of our yard and looked sky word.

     "I forgot how lovely the night sky can be." Spoke grandfather in his sadly strained voice.

     I looked over and once again the energetic, happy young brave I had shared my day with had become the deeply burdened old man I knew as grandfather. I turned to him and replied, "Yes the sky is alive with the lovely sparkling light of Heavenly Father's love. It is truly wondrous!"

     "Maggie girl did you ever wonder why your mom doesn't call me father?" he spoke as he sat up to roll another smoke.

     "I never gave it much thought." I replied as I scowled at him for disturbing the moment for a nasty cigarette break.

   "Don't look at me that way child. It won't add one more moment to my life if I quit now. Will it?"

     I nodded in compliance and bid him to go on with his tale about him and my mother's relationship.

     "When I was 16 I met the prettiest girl I had ever set my eyes upon. It was Sarah, your grandmother. I knew at that very moment I wanted to marry her and make her my wife!" he exclaimed as his eyes began to sparkle with a hint of tears.

     "But isn't Esbeth granny's name?" I interrupted.

     "YES! That's the reason for this story. She's your mommy's aunt, not her real mother," he sharply replied as he took out his Zippo and lit the twisted cigarette that he'd just rolled. Then he pulled tight the draw string pouch that contained his tobacco and went back to his tale.

     "Sarah and I went around together and I was as pert as a ruttin' buck! But she had other beaus; it seemed that every boy in the county wanted to spend time with her. Some folks said in whispers that she as well as her family was a Melungeon, that's sort of a mysterious mountain people who were known have dark skin to be enchantingly beautiful and could even charm people into doing their bidding. However I never cottoned to that tale and thought the stories to be hog wash. Although most of the folks in the family had light skin and hair the hill folks did shy away from them. But dear Sarah was so very lovely with her sky blue eyes, dark curly hair and olive colored skin that some folks said that she should go be one of those models in the magazines or even an actress in the motion pictures." He spoke more softly now as he tucked his tobacco pouch and his Zippo into his shirt pocket.

     "So she did! One day I went to pick her up for a church social and she was gone. She had just picked up and left in the middle of the night! It was many months later that her poor old mother who had been widowed by a mine collapse received a telegram that she was in New York working as a dancer in a Broadway play. Her mother wasn't a happy woman, left there alone to raise 2 young ones. After the death of her father I had gone over many times to do chores that the girls he'd left behind were too feminine to do. Fence mending, slopping the hogs and cleaning up the barn were mostly the chores at hand. I also gave them food and money as I could. 

     One day, here she comes walking up the hill as sweet as you please wearing a long dark cloak that made her look larger that her 5'4" 100lb. self. I stood there on the front porch in disbelief. As she approached I could see that the clothes she wore were in order to disguise the fact that she was with child. I ran to her and helped her on to the porch. She smiled, took hold of my hand and whispered, "Thank you Albert, somehow I knew that you might be here."

     "I was glad to have the lovely Sarah back and didn't give it no thought why she had come.

     A few days later she went into labor. She held my hand as she winced in pain. "I'll go fetch up the doctor!" I exclaimed.

     "No!" she said, "I must do this myself, suffering my own pain for my own sins."

     She gave a weary smile and began to push. Moments later there appeared a lovely little baby girl. Men of my day usually weren't in attendance when such events took place. I was  and all I could do was cry and say… "Ya done a good thing Sarah!" Although I think that most folks there bouts would of had it different.

     She decided to name this lovely baby girl after my mother Minnie Lou. I was so very, very proud! I have a lump in my throat till this very day. He managed a smile and motioned toward his Adam's apple while making it bob a bit!

     I giggled in response and he continued on with his dramatic tale.

     The next day I asked her to marry me and give the babe a name and proper family.

     "I know that you will give her a proper family Elbert!" she smiled and said in response.

      I took this to mean that we would soon wed. I was so happy I could shout. However being that she had a baby that really weren’t mine I decided that we should marry quietly. The justice of the peace would be in our area in a few days. We could register the baby girl's birth with me listed as the father and get married at the same time.

     Only two days after asking Sarah to be my wife she up and left again in the middle of the night. But this time she left a note saying that the baby's last name should be the same as that of the real father: Holloway.

     I was heart broke down to my shoes. I couldn't understand why she'd left me again. But I did have the little baby girl to think of, and so I did. Minnie was sent to live with her great grandma on her mother's side who was called Tessie and lived in a near by county. When Elizabeth, Sarah's next oldest sister was old enough to marry we wed in a small ceremony at the town hall. Not long after great great-granny passed away Minnie came to live with us. As did your great aunt Mary. You never knew Mary she died from a lung infection a few years later, it was all so very sad.

    I took a job with the Southern Pacific Railroad, Elizabeth and I raised Minnie as our own and she became big sister and a second mother to the children that Liza Jane and I made together."

     Grandfather often called granny "Little Liza Jane" after an old country song he used to sing. He grew tired and weary. He lay back down on the soft grass and drew a harsh breath, sighed and then he shouted, "I just wish I could see Sarah one more time so I can tell her how I felt and still feel about her!"

     I sat up and touched his hand. "Grandpa, tell her now she's listening."

     He looked about, wiped his eyes and sobbed, "I done it all for you Sarah my love. I took care of your family when your pa died. I took care of the babe that you left me with. I even married your sister to give that baby a proper upbringing. I done it all for you… for you … Sarah, Sarah my one true love!" he began to sob and then cough uncontrollably.

     I placed my arms around his weary neck and then said, "I'll go get you some water."

     He managed to stop the coughing and with a smile replied, "I'm going into bed girl and I suggest that you do the same."

     So we went into the house and straight to bed. It had been an eventful day and the next one was sure to be eventful as well. I felt an overwhelming sadness yet at the same time a release of long held sorrow. Maybe somehow things were gonna work out for the best.

     It was the last day we would be spending alone together. So as the sun rose in the east I put on a pot of coffee and tried not to burn my toast. Grandpa woke, came in the kitchen and drank his coffee with his morning smoke. We sat in silence as we shared the first light of a new day.

     "Well," started grandfather, "If the fish ain't bitin maybe the turtles are!"

     "Turtles?" I responded.

     "Yes, my dear turtles. I think I'd like to make you a fine tarpon soup."

     I went down to the river with my grandpa and searched near the river bank for turtles. The thought of eating one for supper didn't appeal much to me but I so dearly loved this old man that I'd spend my last moments on this earth making him happy. I knew in my heart that was exactly what he was attempting to do for me.

     We caught a soft back turtle or two, but they were small and weren't up for the task of a tarpon soup. So we sat there in silence gazing out at the muddy Kalamazoo River as it rolled by.

     "This is near bouts where Joe done himself in," stated grandpa matter-of-factually.

     "Yes, I believe that it is." I replied as I worried where this conversation might be heading.

     The old man pointed into the water and urged me to grab at a turtle that had just moved in the muddy waters. I reached down and grabbed a large turtle.

     "I did it!" I exclaimed. But as I turned to see grandfather's proud face I saw him instead disappearing into the woods. I thought to go after him but I didn't want to loose the turtle that it had taken me most all morning to catch.

     I sat there in the late morning sun for quite some time playing with the tarpon that I had captured with my own hands. I wondered if I could bring myself to eat the dear thing, I'd never eaten anything like it before. I remembered back when daddy had raised rabbits for something he called hasenpfeffer. Lots of nearby folks bought them but I never did find out what a hasenpfeffer was. Or even that rabbit Soared Swiftly cooked didn't look like anything I'd be likely to eat.

     I was getting hot, hungry and tired. I started to wonder just where grandpa had gone. So, I scooped the turtle up in my dress and headed for home. Just as I hit the tree line hear comes the old man walking toward me with a huge grin spread nearly across his entire face.

     "I saw Joe!" he exclaimed. "I saw my son. He's happier than he ever thought he could be and he says that I can come join him. I…I'm not afraid anymore. I know I will see my son again and I am not afraid to die!

     I dropped the turtle on the ground and ran to embrace my dear grandfather. I was so pleased that he had made his peace with his impending death. Though I broke down to tears at the thought of loosing him.

     We stood there together in the nearly noon sun at the edge of the woods and watched the shell shocked tarpon making his way back to the water. He took me by the hand and resumed his joyous grin.

     "We'll just go to the "Dogs & Suds," and have somebody else feed us for a change. So we did. It was a bit of a drive but we went to this little drive-in that was in the middle of nowhere just to have a chilly dog and a frosty mug of root bear.

     On the long ride home we listened to the music on the radio. Grandpa set it to a country station and taught me all of the words to "You're Cheatin' Heart." He had a fine baritone voice. I can't remember when I last had heard him sing. He was a wonderfully talented singer. When a Slim Whitman song came on I found that he could even yodel. What a time we had!

     We pulled into the driveway and saw that my folks had returned from Kentucky. I was sad to know that our time together was at an end. However I was glad to know that grandfather's heart had grown lighter.

     Grandpa left that night as I slept. I suppose he thought we'd said everything we needed to say to each other during our time together. I knew that to be true and that a tearful good-bye wouldn't have done either of us any good.

     The summer flew by with trips to the lake, picnics and barbecues and such. School started and I was doing well with my lessons. Winter came nun too soon and Thanksgiving vacation might afford our family a chance to go visit the old Kentucky home of my much loved grandfather.

     The last day before vacation, even a short one like the Thanksgiving holiday, is filled with excitement for a child. I found myself hurrying through everything all day in an effort to make the day go faster. Finally the last bell rang and we were all let out of the schoolhouse prison that had trapped us all day! I ran all of the way home because I thought we were gonna go as soon as everyone was home from school. I had even packed my clothes the night before in anticipation of the trip.

     When I got home the car wasn't even close to being packed to go. I ran in the door and shouted, "Why aren't you people getting ready to go?"

     Mom and dad were sitting at the table holding a telegram between them, "This just arrived from Western Union."

     Daddy handed it to me as he turned away to wipe his face. It read…SAD TO SAY

 ALBERT SOARD WAS FOUND DEAD BY HIS OWN HAND TODAY AT 10:00am. Sincerely, Earl Woody.

     With tears in my eyes I said, "Why would uncle Earl say such a thing? What's going on here? I don't believe this!"

     "We have tried to call but the lines are busy 'cause of the holiday. We're calling grandma to see if it's true. But I can't imagine that Earl, my sister Marthy's husband would do such a thing as a prank," replied my mother with tears in her eyes.

     Later the phone rang and after a lengthy conversation my father came to us kids and explained. "Your grandpa went up to mend the west fence two days ago after a heavy snow had caused some strain on the old fence line. He didn't return that night but everyone thought that he had just grown too tired to return home and had spent the night in the hunting shed that was near there. He still didn't return by the next morning so grandma sent your uncle Earl to fetch him home. Daddy took a deep slow breath then continued. Your uncle walked into the shed and found the old man lying cold on the floor with his shot gun between his knees and a hole in his head. Your grandpa's gone kids." He turned to wipe his face and then walked back into the kitchen to explain things to our mother.

     Since that day there has been many a tragedy in our family premature deaths, life threatening illness, divorce and suicide. However I have come to believe that grandfather ended his own life to prevent further suffering for himself as well as financial hardship for others in our family. He was a fine man who did all he could for others, so how could anyone begrudge him doing this one thing he did just for himself? Most certainly not I… No, no not I!

 

 

                                      An original story by: Margaret Barton-Wahl

    

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Margaret]

Phenomenal read my friend, very powerful and absoring. I felt that I too was there with you feeling it all as you did. I was close to both my Grandparents and they are both gone, but still are with me in spirit. My Grandmother passed on from complications with her diabetes. My Grandfather passed on from complications with Parkinson's. I throroughly enjoyed the read.

[Kaitlin W. Blaylock]

Wow, that was truly powerful. I was on the edge of my seat through it all, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. My own Grandpa died of a tumor in his asauphogus, but I was close to him as well. Wonderful read, and what an amazing tale!

[Margaret Barton-Wahl]

GREAT! I really enjoyed writing it and reading it. ~M~