The Greatest Generation is a book written by Tom Brokaw. It is a book written about the generation of people born just after the turn of the twentieth century up through the 1920's (also known as the GI generation). Brokaw is quoted saying, "it is, I believe, the greatest generation any society has ever produced." He argued that these men and women fought not for fame and recognition, but because it was the right thing to do. These words epitomize my Great Grandfather, a man I said goodbye to this last Saturday.
Hubert S. Rutherford was ninety-four and a half when he passed on the 10th of this month. He suffered a massive heart attack a week prior and had sustained tremendous damage. We knew it was a matter of time before we lost him, but you are never emotionally prepared to say goodbye to a loved one. After the heart attack, I received a very somber phone call from my grandmother that if I wanted to see him alive then I would have to leave now, or I could wait for the funeral. With Katherine teetering in the ninth month of pregnancy and my G-pa, living 700 miles away, I thought it best to leave immediately so that I could return before her labor.
I have heard some cases that certain people will cling to life until the have had the chance to say or hear goodbye from their loved ones, then, having that peace of mind, they slip away. My grandfather was the type of man who would do that. He grew up during the Great Depression, fought in WWII, earned two Bronze Stars, and raised three children. His son, Keith Rutherford, was nineteen when he lost his life in a car wreck less then ten miles from his home. When that happened, it did everything but destroy Keith's mother, my great grandmother, giving her a nervous breakdown. Hubert stood strong. He was always strong. He was the family rock, and as Brokaw said, when he did something, "he did it because it was the right thing to do."
Hubert was much more than the family "Rock," he also was funny. I mean side splittingly funny. He was one of those guys who would pop off with a joke so quickly and unexpectedly, you may find yourself too in awe of his cleverness, trying to figure where does he come up with this stuff rather than laugh. Usually, by the time I would get it, he would have already left the room & I'd be left there just giggling awkwardly, by myself. Once he was helping me install a windshield wiper motor on a old Buick. I was crouched over the engine and he would point at the different nuts and bolts for me to twist. Suddenly, a group of his buddies pulled in behind us (the whole town had him working on stuff). One of the men pointed at me, trying to score points with Hubert he asked, "who you got there with ya?" I was expecting a proud introduction, Grandpa stopped and gave me a long stare, he then looked back at the older fella and said "I don't know who he is, but I'm letting him call me Grandpa."
As most people knew him as a tough old bird, I also knew him as a sensitive man. We would usually get a chance to visit him and grandma a couple times a year. Several times I could remember him getting emotional when it would come time to leave. The first time I saw him tear up he was talking with my mom, my grandma was having a variety of issues and had to be rushed to the hospital the night before. He was worried at the prospect of losing her and often looked to my mother for support. Seeing that man cry was as hard for me emotionally as it was watching him in the hospital this past week. He was sensitive when it came to his family, he loved us. It took a week for all of us to gather with him in his room Saturday evening, my aunt Charlotte was the last to arrive straight from the airport. She knelt beside him and spoke for us all. She was reading all of our hearts when she thanked him for being there, always being there. My grandpa and grandma were home to us and she let him know. She then called my mom and let her speak into his hear. His ear lobes relaxed and we all decided it was best to regroup at home. He passed away minutes later.
He was the type of person who would wait for us to all say our goodbyes, before passing to heaven. Up until the very end he was still there for us. He was our Rock.
I am sorry this post isn't about parenting. I needed to write it for Molly, so she can read something about him while I have him fresh in my mind.
Dear Cheryl,
ReplyDeleteI have to tell you how happy I am that you are going to be able to do grandpas service. He thought so much of you.
I understand you would like some memories of my grandpa. There are so many good ones. I can't think of one unpleasant thing ! I was blessed to have him so long. We all were.Anyway here are a few.......
I remember when he moved from Aullville. Bought the little house on 20th St.I was four years old. I remember him holding me up so I could see through the window. From that point on that house and the people in it were my security. I walked in that house and knew there was always food cooking, and so much love. I knew my whole life that house and the people in it would always be there to love, nurture and encourage me. That little house represented security and love to me.
I lived in Memphis for the most part so grandpa and I would talk about our tomatoes. He loved his plants and really worked hard at it. He asked about the tomatoes I was growing and I told him they were HUGE. He got silent and a few seconds later said "well mine are so big I have to slice them outside so they will fit through the back door !"
As you may know he was very mechanically inclined, when we came to visit the first thing grandpa would do is run out and check your car out! He once told me "I gues thet don't change their oil in Tennesse !" After that I learned to make sure it was perfect before I left Memphis, I never wanted grandpa to be dissapointed in me.
He nicknamed me Moe and called me that most of the time. My sister that passed away was Otto, and Charlotte was Bill. Years later we figured out it was Auto mo bile.Silly grandpa :)
My son Ryan recalls doing a school project in the 8th grade. His assignment was to interview a WWII veteran. Grandpa told him he would get a better grade using someone else. He said I was just a waterboy.Later of course we found out he was awarded two bronze stars, one for going behind enemy lines to retrieve food and water for his comrades in the Battle of the Bulge. He was that humble.
After his eye sight got bad he couldnt see to work on cars. My youngest daughter Lacie (in her high heels ) worked on putting a new thermostat in her jeep while grandpa handed her tools and gave her insructions.Together they fixed it. It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.
When Sept 11th happened I called grandpa ( he afterall was my rock) I asked him "grandpa what do you think about all of this ?" He calmly stated " I'm ironing my uniform ."
Most important Cheryl, he was our rock. Always true, always steady,always there to help us out of whatever we had gotten ourselves into.He was everybody's grandpa. I have had a steady stream of calls and emails from childhood friends that all say the same. He was our grandpa too Cindy and we loved him.
There will never be another grandpa, but I am so blessed to have had this one and for 53 yrs at that!! Thank you Cheryl and keep me in your prayers please.