MEMORIES DON'T DIE
Benjamin's Tribute to his Grandpa Ed
I remember waking up as a child to the most comforting sound.
My Grandpa's lawn mower. It was always a comfort, sort of just
knowing he was there, lovingly caring for his lawn as he cared
for those around him. And I could just picture how proud he looked
on his little lawn tractor, sitting tall and proud with a big smile on his
face. Everyone knew Ed Roberge was special by the way his
easy-coming smile seemed to brighten a room or how his infectious
laughter seemed to carry through the air.


I was much younger then but my love for him couldn't have been any greater
than it was then. And my love would grow when he called me by my pet name,
'Little Benny'. So sacred to me was that pet name that I would be furious if
anyone else called me by that special name. Though he had many
grandchildren and many pet names for us all,he still had a unique and
special bond between every one of us.

Flying, I also remember, was something Ed would love to do. The freedom of the
air called to him and he loved sharing that special calling with anyone who cared to
come with him on his many numerous flights. I hadn't been born when he could
still fly but the stories I heard were heart-warming. A man and his plane.
It seem he had no greater love at the time.

Holidays seemed so much more special at Grandpa's. I, being so little,
recall the words us grandkids were waiting to hear. 'Time to go to Grandpa's
for Thanksgiving Dinner.' And the short trip over, with minds filled with the taste
of Grandpa's wonderful dressing and the smell of his sweet tender turkey awaiting
us on arrival. During the dinner us children would have to sit at the 'kids' table
longingly glancing at the 'adults' table which was always filled with loving and
friendly conversations between my Grandpa, seated at the head of the table, and
all the other relatives.You could see the joy in my Grandpa's eyes as he saw all
his children together as a family. Sure, we always wanted to sit at the 'adult'
table but that's only because we didn't know it was much more special to
witness that loving display than to actually had to have been part of it.

Christmas was loved by one and all of our family, but most especially by
Grandpa. He seemed to me to be St. Nick himself because of all the joy and
love that he brought to the celebration of Christ's birthday. Grandpa and
Uncles and Aunts would talk of each other's health and the feeling of being
together as a family once again was in the very air we breathed. Love filled
my Grandpa's house and it never ran out of love. My Uncles would then pass
around amusing anecdotes. Us kids, though too young to understand,
always laughed - though not a forced laughter.

Summer was Grandpa's element. Enraptured by the scenery and the smell
in the air. But most of all Grandpa loved summers because of his garden.
I remember Grandpa taking me and Mom on a tour through his garden. His
eyes would light up as he predicted how his garden would do this year and you
could hear the joy in his voice as he answered patiently the questions I would ask
about a plant here and there. He loved gardening and it showed in the way the rows
were meticulously lined up or how there would be no weeds in his garden.

Behind Grandpa's garden, in the shade stood a beautiful grove of crabapple
trees and every time I rode bike to Grandpa's farm he'd always greet me with
a hug, a pinch on the cheek and he'd whisper happily, "Hi, little Benny".
And we'd sit 'til sunset and eat crabapples and talk about many things. And just
before sundown, just as the sky was lighting up as if in a wonderful display of
Mother Nature's fireworks, Grandpa would stand up and stretch. His body would be
silhoutted against the sky and I'd think - Grandpa looks too skinny....
but the worry would soon be forgotten as the night wore on. But then it
would get to the point where I wouldn't stop worrying for awhile. Like when
Grandpa would come over and we'd pass the warm afternoons with Grandpa
hitting pop-flys to me as I would run to catch them. But whenever I threw the ball
back to him he would groan from the countless aches and pains that he had.
Every time he had to bend over and get the ball, I'd start to worry a little bit more.
But he never uttered a word of complaint, thought sometimes I wish he would've.

Then on the worst night of my life Mom got a call. 'Yes, oh God, I'll be right over.'
I asked where she was going and she hurriedly said she was going to Grandpa's.
Just being a child I couldn't hear the fear in her voice. The anticipation of things to come.
I asked if I could come too but she never answered and I never saw Grandpa again......

For so long I was numb. Just floating through the days. And life seemed nothing more
than a dream. It happened so quick, I'd think. But then I'd wonder how long we were
expecting it to happen. Sure, he smoked alot and didn't eat right. Sure, he had diabetes
and lots of things wrong with him but dammit, so many people loved him ! He had
so much love left to give. He had many more summers of gardening and hitting
pop-flys to me on mild summer afternoons. So many times left to pinch my cheeks
and call me 'Little Benny' ! And he had many more hours of mowing the lawn.
He had this and so much more left in him. Mom said 'Memories don't die'.....
So why do people, I'd silently ask. That Thanksgiving was silent and mirthless.
I sat at the 'Adult's table but it wasn't as special to me anymore....it wasn't as special
to any of us anymore. And every holiday less and less relatives would come.
It almost seemed as if Grandpa actually tied us together as a family.

And saddest of all, on those beautiful summer mornings that I knew Grandpa
would've loved, I didn't hear a lawn mower doing it's job guided with gentle hands
by one of the most special people this world ever had. My Grandpa.
Our Grandpa. But sometimes, like on the morning of his funeral,
I could've sworn I heard his John Deere running
like it always did.............
HOME
In HIS Garden


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