I recently went to a funeral for one of my great uncles. Listening to his children and looking at pictures got me thinking about my childhood experiences with grandparents, specifically my grandfathers. My mother’s dad passed away when I was too young to remember, so really the only grandfather in my life was my dad’s father. Looking back on the experience, I think I missed out. Some parts of me say I’m being too hard comparing to an idealized image, but Bennet’s funeral proves that loving, playful, involved grandparents do exist from that generation. I won’t deny that I did have some enjoyable times … usually involving tagging along for field work. There were meals with him and grandma. But for the most part, there really wasn’t much that brings back the warm feelings that remembering Bennet invokes for his family. No storytelling (that I remember anyway). No music. No grandpa building things for you to play with.
Bennet’s funeral did prompt some regret on my part, not for anything having to do with my grandfather but more because I didn’t make much effort towards getting to know family members of his generation. I’m sure they had stories to tell and I wish I had heard what they have to teach.
I’m hopeful that my children will have the opportunity to get to know their grandparents and know that special relationship that you can have with them. I am thankful that my parents and Liz’s parents are the type of people that can provide the memories and happiness that Bennet is remembered for.
R.I.P. Bennet L. Rust (1922-2010)
