melvin rumplethorpe

My little brother is awesome. He is handsome and smart and talented and funny, and even though he has had a greater-than-average amount of suck in his life, he doesn't feel too terribly sorry for himself and still manages to be pretty freakin rad. My brother lost BOTH of his parents (my mom and stepdad) when he was 7 years old :( He bounced around some but ended up with Stepgrams and Stepgramps and stayed there through high school. So when Stepgramps died it was kind of like losing a father. Again. More suck, but as usual my little bro handled it with grace and really cool hair. He spoke at the memorial, and did such a great job. I thought I'd share his words here. I changed the names but everything else is verbatim.

What to say about Grandpa. He was an amazing man who had a profound impact on this world. He shared boundless joy and wisdom with everyone in his life. The saddest aspect of his departure is that we were robbed of his influence. The impression he left on people wasn't immediately obvious. It was subtle, but strong and far-reaching like a vast river.  Imagine the effect he would have had if he were given another decade. Or another few years. Or even another month of vitality. He had this way of quietly making you want to be a better person. After spending some time with him, you had an unexplained urge to try unconventional food combinations. Or put in some extra effort on your most recent project. Or treat yourself to your favorite sweets. Or try a new sport. Or take some time to laugh. Or fix that thing at home you've been meaning to get to.

Speaking of fixing things, he had this vast store of handyman know-how that he shared whenever the situation called for it. He taught me how to change a tire and check the oil. He taught me how to build a deck. How to prepare for ice on the road or bears in your cabin. The knowledge he shared with me was invaluable, though I would never admit it at the time. Before I left for college, Grandpa took me in to the garage with a paper bag like he was taking me on a shopping spree, putting in all of the essential tools I might need for being an adult. Hammer. Screwdrivers. Wrench. The works. I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily in the way that only teenagers can. I said that if anything went wrong, I would find someone else to fix it. I was so sure I wouldn't use those tools that I made a bet. Sure enough, those screwdrivers came in handy, and I had to pay up.

The fact that he was able to put up with my ingratitude and stubbornness speaks volumes about his patience. That was one of his other impressive qualities. How he was able to handle the Kellers [Stepgrams' family] is still a mystery to me. Can you picture wrangling the 3 Carter boys in to building a cabin from scratch?! And don't get me started on Grandma. Those of you lucky enough to have experienced Grandma Carter's candor know that she is not the easiest of women to disagree with. I asked Grandpa how in the hell he lived with her for 60 years. His answer to me was simple: respect. Respect for your significant other and the decisions that they make and the emotions that they have. I later realized that he must have applied the same philosophy to the unruly Keller clan. How else could he have earned the coveted status of honorary blood relative?

Patience was one factor, but so was humor. And boy did Grandpa Carter have a sense of humor. It was unexpected from a generally soft-spoken man. Some of my earliest memories of him were of his right hand, which had a tendency to be possessed by a kid-catching monster called "The Claw". He also got a huge kick out of the Harry Potter books. One of his hobbies was making up names that sounded like they belonged in the wizarding world, like "Melvin Rumplethorpe" or something. His funny bone didn't weaken with age either. I had the privilege of spending the last few months with him. And despite his deteriorating health, his wit was as sharp as ever. I was a bit of a care-giver, and noticed that his cough medicine said to take with plenty of water. So every time I would give it to him, I would also hand him a glass of water, which he would never drink under normal circumstances. Grandma came in to the room and asked "why is it that you'll drink water for him but not for me?" He looked up at her and said "because he's nice to me."

There are countless ways that Grandpa has influenced me. He taught me the importance of comedy, patience, respect, and manual labor. I'm sure that everyone here learned valuable lessons from him as well. And that's what I'll miss the most; the marks he left on this earth. But I take solace in the fact that those marks will have a ripple effect for generations to come. I'll leave you with one of the most inspiring messages I ever got from Grandpa. It's so important that he wore it proudly on a shirt. It goes like this. "Beer: not just for breakfast anymore." Let's raise a toast to that.

a painting of stepgramps that my little brother did IN ONE NIGHT

i wanted to add one last little snippet. lots of people stood up to speak at the memorial and had all sorts of great stories to share about the general hijinx to which stepgramps was a party. many involved margaritas and naked hot-tubbing and some borderline illegal activity. but one in particular cracked me up. you probably had to be there but i'll tell it anyway. it was told by a cousin of stepdad's that i'd never actually met before. he told how he got cancer in college, and stepgramps knew that he was really bummed out because he was normally a super active guy, etc. so, stepgramps figured he would benefit from interaction with a "woman of ill repute." so the cousin is in the hospital and he gets this racy letter from this "woman" which he has to read while his mother is in the room, and he continues to get communications from her over the years, including an email from time to time, even after he was married. turns out these letters and emails were really from stepgramps, posing as the now infamous "Boom Boom LaRue." :) another cute part of that story was that when the cousin did get married, and stepgramps first met his wife, they really hit it off. so the next time stepgramps saw the cousin he presented him with a little trophy that was engraved with the words "second-best wife-picker." (that obviously must have been before he met my mom ;)) <3

heaven-ish

my grandpa just died.

i mean, not just just. but. quite recently.

it was not unexpected.

but that doesn't make it any less sad.

this isn't my first rodeo. death is not a foreign concept to me. i've done the tragic, sudden-death, freak-accident, gone-before-their-time thing. i've also done the not-exactly-expected, but not-exactly-shocking, either, thing. in any event. it always happened quickly. there was no "saying goodbye." and in my mind, i always thought it would be nice to be able to say goodbye.

i didn't really think about the reality of being able to say goodbye, though. that somebody has to be slowly dying. that you know they're going to die but you don't know when. that you are basically waiting for them to die. that they are waiting to die. that dying really isn't all that enjoyable of an experience, and dragging it out over an extended period of time is not necessarily ideal.

i'm still glad i got to say goodbye. but i'm just saying. it didn't go down like it does in the movies, or at least, the movie in my mind.

another thing i didn't realize: even when you know it's just around the corner, even when you're waiting for the call, even though you're actually hoping it happens sooner than later, it hurts. it really hurts. no matter which way you cut it, death is a sucker punch to the gut. it takes the wind out of you. it's like an emotional brain freeze. it sucks.

he was my step-dad's dad. i didn't call him "grandpa," but he was mine. some people have said things along the lines of, oh, i know he was "just" your step-grandfather, but i'm sure it still hurts. thank you, captain obvious. for me, "step" is just semantic. i love words. but sometimes, a lot of the time, they don't really mean anything. or rather, they mean what you want them to mean. you know?

step-gramps and step-grams met my sister and me before they met their own grandchildren. i was 7 and she was 3. if you keep up with this blog, you may remember that on my mom's first date with step-dad, they went naked hot-tubbing with step-grams and step-gramps. i think she fell in love with them as much as she did with step-dad. "the stepdadders" were and are a kick-ass crew. i have never met anyone quite like them. we won the modern-family lotto, for sure.

i keep starting sentences and stopping them. i feel like there is nothing i could write that would adequately sum up this man and his legacy. he was a teacher. he was a spy. he was afraid of heights. he loved happy hour. he introduced me to crinkle cut salt and pepper kettle chips. along with his wife and three sons, and learning on the fly, he built a cabin in lake tahoe that three generations have enjoyed, and will continue to enjoy for years and years to come.

i started this post days ago and left it open on my computer. i had written "he was a" ... and never finished my thought. DM was using my computer and filled in the blank with "a-freaking-mazing." it's sweet. and true. DM loves their family, their dynamic, their 'french-word-for-that-certain-something.' he wishes he was a stepdadder. i'm glad he isn't though, because that would have made for a very strange situation. but the stepdadders, they are the genuine article. they actually consist mainly of step-grams' family. step-gramps was a "non-blood," as they're so lovingly called. an interloper. but he was the perfect complement. he was such a good man. a great man. one of the best men.

when i saw him last weekend, physically, he was a shell of the man he once was. but he still knew what was up. my brother and uncle and grams and i were sitting on the bed, going through old photos. we came upon a few photos of a pet parakeet that they'd had 40-some-odd years ago. apparently it had just been hanging out in the backyard and they brought it inside and there it stayed, sometimes perched on their german shepherd's back. we all thought step-gramps was sleeping, but suddenly, he hoarsely whispered something. "what was that?" we asked. "e." ... "a."... "nevermore." step-grams barked out a laugh. that was the parakeet's name! after edgar allen poe. he was still sharp as a tack ;)

when i was getting ready to leave at the end of the weekend, i wondered if i should just say goodbye, or say goodbye. i knew this was the last time i would see him. i flew up precisely because i wanted to see him again before he left this world. we had plans to come up in March, to celebrate Colby's 2nd birthday, because we knew he wasn't going to be around too much longer. but my brother, who has been staying with and helping take care of step-gramps for months, said he didn't think he would last even that long. so basically, i was there to say goodbye. but i wasn't sure if i was willing, or able, to make it a "thing."

a girlfriend of mine said she had read some literature that people in this sort of limbo state often pass in their sleep after saying goodbye to their family. she had watched a documentary about it. of course, then she added, "i also cried for like three days after watching that documentary, so maybe the concept is not totally ideal." ha. thanks for the helpful insight, friend ;)

i still didn't know what i was going to do as i walked into his room. i sat down next to him and held his hand. he opened his eyes and looked up at me. i said, "hey." after a few seconds he said, "how 'bout them niners?" i laughed out loud. i don't know if he noticed or not, but i was wearing a 49ers sweatshirt. it was superbowl sunday. we had asked him the day before if he might be interested in watching the game. he hadn't been out of bed in almost a week at this point so it was a long shot. also, he doesn't even like football. or, didn't. which just made it that much funnier. i talked with him a little bit. he asked about DM, my sister, my dad, and the kids. each and every word took so much effort. it meant so much to me that he would expend what precious little breath he had left asking about the well-being of my family. he told me he really appreciated that i came all the way up to see him. i said of course. he was closing his eyes after every sentence so i knew i needed to wrap it up. i said, "well, we'll all be up here next month for Colby's birthday, but......... if you're not around..... i'll catch you on the flip side, okay?" (that's the best i could do.) he mumbled something. i couldn't understand, so i asked him to repeat it. he said, "cold hands." i smiled and said, "yep. it's cold outside. california's finally getting some rain." (of course i felt it was an opportune time to talk about the weather.) then he whispered, "cold hands. warm heart." it's funny, because it's not even something i would ever picture him saying. but it pierced my soul. and my eyeballs. which promptly started leaking. i managed to get out the words "love you." but he had already closed his eyes.

it's weird. i'm weird. i don't think i've told anyone that story, not word-for-word. and yet i'm putting it out there on the world wide web for a million seven other people to see ;) just thinking about telling it, out loud, makes me so exhausted. and i feel simultaneously embarrassed and protective about sharing such a personal moment. but it also makes me feel better to write it down, like i don't have to hold on so tight. i can let go of it now. so. there you go.

this weekend i was looking at photo albums with the kids. i pointed out a picture of us with the step-grands in tahoe last summer and said, "step-gramps is in heaven now." DM looked at me quizzically and said, "heaven? really? wow. i would not have called that one in a million years." and i guess that's fair. i'm a notorious scrooge when it comes to organized religion and the bible and "god-with-a-capital-G." but, though i may not buy in to angels and harps and pearly gates, per se, "heaven" is shorthand for what i believe. step-gramps is reunited, somewhere, with his son, with my mom, with all of the friends and loved ones who went before him. heaven is a naked hot tub party in the sky. margaritas are mandatory.

"Melvin Rumplethorpe"
(Amazing art by my little bro)