OUR LAST GOOD BYE

I am a minister and now serve a church in Soldotna Alaska. When going through the process of making the decision to relocate so far form our home I asked Pa what he thought about the idea. Once again he was true to himself and said, “Beano I think you should go. It is one of only a few places where the fish are so plentiful a bear can walk down to the river and scoop one out.”

We made the decision to move to Alaska and on Dec.31st of 1992 boarded a plane at seven thirty in the morning. It was an emotional departure and this was to be the last time I would see my grandfather. Our relationship would now be reduced to the telephone.

I remember our last conversation. I had called home and my grandparents were over visiting with mom and dad. Talking with Pa I did not realize it would be our last good bye. His words to me were, “Beano, I may never see you again and if I don’t, I love the ground you walk on, we really have had a good time.” My response was, “Pa I will see you soon.” However it was not to happen.

Early the following week I received a call and was told Pa had suffered a heart attack and passed away. Broken hearted I boarded a plan the following afternoon for a long journey home. I was asked if I would consider speaking at the service. I accepted the offer thinking it would be the last thing I could do for my grandfather. Flying through the night I could not sleep. I was haunted by questions. Would I have the strength to stand before those I love and speak to their brokenness? Where would I find words to comfort their spirit and encourage their heart? What will I say to our family as we gather to remember him?

I found strength in my faith and words of comfort in the scriptures. For encouragement I looked to the storehouse of my yesterdays and found my grandfather was everywhere. Sifting through the keepsakes I found a few memories and shared a few stories. I think Pa would have been pleased.

Now all of our children have caught salmon on my grandfather’s fly rod while fishing Alaska’s Kenai River. I had looked forward to a time when the next generation would come along and we would place his fly rod in their hands and instill in them a love for the elusive rainbow. However the following spring someone went into our shed and took all of our fishing gear. Even Pa’s fly rod was taken.

Among the greatest trophies I have are not fish mounted on the walls of my home but memories of this man I loved, who never called me by name.