He Read Me The Book of Genesis

Author Genesis FireMoon 2007

I recently lost my grandfather who was a very wise man. He was a very strong baptist christian, ministered in many churches and volunteered at many different church events.

When I was younger I remember him hosting large pool parties for his church members and for the neighbor hood. He was always the one behind the grill cooking the hamburgers. If it were not for him in my life I would have never found any sort of spirituality what so ever.

My Grandfather would minister to me alot, frequently. I never grasped the spiritual love for christianity that my Grandfather had. When he spoke of the bible you could hear a passion in his voice that you could not help but to listen to. He was an easy man to get along with and an easy man to get to know. He would let you know where his place was... 'with the Lord'.

When I reminice about him, I can see so much of myself in him. We were very close, as he was very close to my daughter as well. I am the first born grandchild, he told me many times that I was what made him a Grandpa. He taught me that it was ok to eat an entire bag of jelly beans and not feel bad about it. He taught my daughter how to perfectly spitting rasberries at others.

When I was about eleven or twelve, my grandparents started taking me to Christian church, Sunday School, and other church events. I didn't mind because most of the time I would usually sit and listen to how my grandfather would sit and talk to people after the sermon. In awe of how strongly he believed in his faith, I was still not grasping the christianity, nor the bible. I had already started going through my own spiritual changes and awakenings.

My Grandfather loved bluegrass music and country music, he also played the banjo. When I would watch him sit and pick at his banjo it made me want to play an instrument. I decided I wanted to play the violin, or as he would say my "fiddle". He was very supportive of any type of music it was that my cousin and I wanted to do.

Also after instilling the panic and fear of 'going to hell' into my cousin and I one Sunday, he was driving me home that evening, rehashing the sermon. Literally sending me into tears believing that I was going to burn in the eternal flames of hell if I did not 'get saved'. As any naive youngster would, my grandpa and I spent a very spiritually opening and sacred moment together in prayer. Yes, I accepted Jesus Christ as my lord and savior for these little nasty things called sins, and because I was 'saved' I would be going to Heaven to spend eternity. That moment with my grandfather in his old beat up car, pulled over to the side of the road under a street light reading the books of Genesis, Romans, and Soloman was what he called his 'Romans Roads' his ministry to save individuals from damnation.

A couple Sundays later I was being baptised, and my grandpa couldn't have been prouder of me. Though I felt nothing spiritually enlightening about the experience, I remember how proud I felt inside for making my grandparents happy. Naturally after that my cousin and I joined the church choir and sang every Sunday. The four of us, my grandparents, my cousin, and I took a trip to Branson together and camped in a camper. My grandpa bought us these ridiculous looking umbrellas with our names painted on them, I can't help but to smile just thinking about the umbrellas.

Since I was very very young my grandfather and I would play a game together. The 'flying mouse' that damn mouse flew everywhere... yes it was imaginary... however it was so special to him and me that we played it until I was eighteen years old. We would just point and say 'oh oh oh there goes that flyin' mouse again'. It was just another facet of the great bond that we had together.

I began questioning alot of the belief system and the path of christianity for myself, not others. I had already been studying the Craft for years before, I was just careful not to let anyone know especially my grandparents. I didn't have the heart to break theirs.

My grandfather was also very proud of his Indian heritage, his father was a full blooded indian. He loved fishing, hunting, and anything outdoors you could think of doing. He was a Gemini, but not like any other Gemini I had ever met before, don't get me wrong I don't judge people based on their astrological sign, I've just always noticed a difference in the Geminis that I have met.

He always loved Christmas, it was his favorite holiday, I was always kind of a grinch around that time because I had and still have my own seperate beliefs. As far back as I can remember every year he would dress up into a Santa suit and play Santa Clause for all of us. Except for the last few years when his health started fading from him. His faith always stayed strong no matter what the circumstances were.

My grandfather worked for a long time as a security officer, I always liked his uniform and the smell of my grandmas starch. I later followed in his foot steps and stumbled upon a position in law enforcement. While I had my position my grandfather and I would sit and swap stories like two men as strange as that sounds. He never talked to me like I was ever anything other than an equal. He was strong minded, stubborn, and could get down right argumentative, but he wouldn't talk down to anyone.

Over my life I have gone through some hard times, my grandfather would always give me his two cents whether I wanted it or not. He talked to me about God and give me advice from a religious aspect. Even though I had formed my own beliefs that I felt comfortable with and a great passion for, I still would listen to him out of pure respect. He was a truly inspirational man.

If it were not for him I would not have ever engulfed myself in researching spiritual paths and question everything. My grandfather was a wonderful writer, just about every week or so he would leave my grandma poems, short letters, or notes telling her how much he loved her. I have read alot of the letters and poems he wrote her over the years, I do believe that a little bit of him burns within me.

I had talked to him about a week before he his health started getting worse. He was on so many pain medications that he was loopy at times, I called to speak to my grandmother and he answered the phone. He proceeded to tell me how proud he was of getting the refridgerator clean... my grandfather always took great pride in everything he did, apparently no matter how small the task. Engraved in my mind is the last time I visited him and he hugged me with his warm big bear arms and told me he loved me. That image may now only be a memory, but forever it will stay engraved into my heart.

My grandfather was also a creative artist, he enjoyed woodworking. Bird houses, log cabins, chairs, entertainment centers... you name it he could make it out of wood. I think thats why he talked about Noah in the bible, they were both builders. Though ultimately we were different denominations, we got along very well, I will always keep the images of my grandfather within me. He is the reason I drink ice in my milk, strange but its actually quite good, he always drank ice milk in a tin cup. He once told me that I had "healing hands" when I helped him with his shoulder one day, it may have been a small compliment to him, however to me it meant much more.

My grandfather visited me in the hospital when I had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. He told me, "You're a fighter, it won't beat you". He didn't know anything about Multiple Sclerosis, but he said it with sincerity and with pure faith in me that I would not let it beat me. We griped with each other sometimes about our shots we had to take. He didn't like them either. It meant so much to me that him and my grandma came up to the hospital to see me when I was diagnosed. They brought me a plant, my grandfather had more than several gardens and plants around his home. When I start to doubt myself even the slightest, I think about the moment when I was laying in the hospital bed and he said those words to me. My endearment and love for my grandfather can never be summed up in one article.

I was there the day he passed away, he was recieving visits from hospice nurses because he didn't want to leave his home. He wanted to pass away in his home with his family that he loved dearly around him. We were all there just as he wished. Holding his hand as he was taking his last breathes, I could feel an entire surge of energy in my solar plexus be almost sucked out of me... I knew that his time was coming soon.

In one surreal moment, we all stood around him in his hospital bed in the living room and the man who was the rock of the family was gone. I was extremely pleased to see that he was buried wearing a deep purple shirt, the color of spirituality. I wrote a small passage from the grandchildren that was read at his service and I put a small piece of me inside his casket, to make sure a small piece of me is physically with him. I had bout him a christmas ornament that was a small little mouse in an airplane... the flying mouse, he was so tickeled about it when he opened it. A couple weeks before he passed he had asked my grandma to bring the ornament from his bedroom into the living room with his hospital bed to put it up on the shelf so that he could look at it while he laid in bed. I took the ornament and put it inside my grandfathers casket, just so that one tiny piece of me would be there.

He lead a hard, full, satisfying life, I know that when his spirit comes back to this Earth, Gods willing that we haven't ruined Mother Earth yet, he is going to be a great minister again. The fire that he had inside of himself was not a fire that just burns out in one lifetime. It was a fire that just gets stronger... he learned many lessons in his life, as well as taught many others... I couldn't have had a better Grandfather.