Joseph Ridgeson
WarRavens
Capital Punishment.
2853
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Posted - 2014.12.03 08:25:00 -
[1] - Quote
I didn't think I would actually post this. I have typed it out a few times before and I usually hate this kind of stuff when it comes to forums that are not meant to be random. Eh, I am forever a hypocrite which if you have ever met me you would already know.
I am currently taking a slight break from packing to post on the forums as a sort of self-centering tool. In about 10 hours, I will be starting on the 12 hour journey that will bring me from sunny Arizona to cold as hell Germany. I have not been there in 5 or 6 years. The last visit was certainly in more cheerful circumstances but you already knew that from the name of the post. My grandfather passed away Sunday; I am flying out to pay my final respects to a truly great man. I am taking it both better and worse than I expected as it comes in waves. Again, this is why this post exists.
Not looking for pity but I wanted to share two little stories about him. If you want to go away and just say that I am wasting your time, well, you are right. Shoo.
He was born in 1937 in a Na-, uh, "Bad German guys" hospital. His mother was a socialite who I always imagined to be a Paris Hilton of her time, though she was not overly wealthy herself. She was apparently a people person, enough that her son would be born in a state of the art hospital. Run forward a few years. The British were not too happy with the factories that lined his town of Dusseldorf. He ended up losing his home. Going inside the ruins at the age of 6 or 7, the only thing he found of his father's was his old ring. He has never removed it. If he is buried without it, I guaran-damn-tee you there will be a resurrection of this stubborn old goat coming back to get his father's ring. I don't think we would have any other way.
He was always a very proud, strong, arrogant man. Hell, all of the males in my family have that. When my mother had intense morning sickness, my grandmother correctly deduced I was going to be male. The reason? "All (redacted) males are a**holes!" Truer words have never been spoken and at this point in time her English was really quite bad. Apparently, she said it perfectly. My grandfather would probably disagree, at lengths, with that statement and fail to see the irony in it. We all would. But that isn't the story really.
What is the story is when I was talking about religion with him. We are not religious in my family but I always wondered about him. Growing up, I erroneously believed he wasn't a bloody genius because "he can't talk!" Naturally, this was untrue. Expert mechanical engineer that could also wire up a house in his sleep. When I was older and could appreciate that, it was great asking him those religious questions. I will adore what he said because he broke right through the "I am the elder" (we share the same name) and went right to the root of the matter: "I don't know about religion. I think I know about God. I think of it like this. I love the boss; He is a good guy. But his managers are all a**holes." Through a language gap, he delivered some fairly profound truth.
He lived the way he wanted to live, raised a family, supported us, and was a most gentle man. He would always say "in these hands, never a gun" for his hatred of violence. All my life he has towered over me with his imposing frame, with all that power. Even when I surpassed him in height, he still was taller than me. I am really going to miss him.
Ruhe in Frieden.
"This is B.S! This is B.S! I paid money! Cash money, dollars money, cash money!"
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