Losing my last grandparent

Yesterday evening I received the news that my grandpa passed away in the afternoon in his home in Niagara Falls.

While the news hasn't quite hit me yet, I wanted to capture the impact my grandpa had on me. You don't quite realize how many laughs you have shared until the stories stop.

I spoke to him last on the phone last week on the 56th anniversary of 2001: A Space Odyssey. This was the first VHS movie my grandparents gave me as a child one Christmas. I could go on about the love of space, adventure and creativity that movie inspired in me, but that's not the reason I'm writing this post.

I am writing about a man many knew as Chuck. From growing up in Purdue with my great-grandparents to settling in Weyburn, my grandpa always had a joke up his sleeve. Some of them he would classify as "rip snorters" where you would laugh and laugh, before you realized what the joke was even about.

A favourite memory I had was when my grandparents took me from southern Saskatchewan to North Dakota without letting my parents know one weekend. I had the best time hanging out in a hotel swimming with them and I even went with my grandpa to watch Young Guns II, which inspired my love of westerns and the Bon Jovi soundtrack that accompanied that movie. I remember getting a sweet pair of LA Gear high top sneakers with blue and white laces intertwined and a few Ocean Pacific shirts. The story became richer when returning to Weyburn that weekend, learning that my parents had been freaking out all weekend having no idea where we had all gone. While my parents were probably freaked out at the time, this still makes me chuckle.

Through the years we went on many fishing trips to Big Jim's camp in Nistowiak Falls, 80 km north of La Ronge in Saskatchewan. A trip with my grandpa, two of my uncles and my dad made for a lot of memorable times. From the quiet calm being out on the water looking for the elusive Walter jackfish or walleye, to telling stories in the wooden cabins around a camp stove, those were some special times.

On those trips I was known as wood boy where I would be responsible for ensuring the firebox was well stocked with freshly cut timber. Whether it was raining or a hot sunny afternoon, I would venture from our ramshackle accommodations and pick up the axe handle, hoping the axe head would hang on for one more swing.

My grandpa taught me a lot. He taught me about the importance of humour and he taught me about the importance of family. Family reunions were always a riot when we would get the extended families together for some goofy game or other. One of them involved forming the longest line of clothing with various parts of the family competing against each other. We gathered everywhere from Saskatoon to Victoria and Parksville to celebrate these times. The most important aspect of those family reunions was getting to spend some quality time with my great grandmother Dorothy who lived to the ripe old age of 110.

My first newspaper gig straight out of university planted me in her backyard in Parksville. Many games of Yahtzee would bring me together to share stories with her and I treasured that time as well. I still remember how she would cut out my newspaper articles and keep them tucked away.

My grandpa had a lot of funny sayings, but the best one made it onto his license plates. He had a red Mazda B 2500 truck broto and a maroon Crown Victoria car he called koshnee. Brotokoshnee was the nonsense word that could stand in for anything. Whether you were having a great day or a shitty one, this was the word we would weave into sentences to create a laugh.

No matter how many curveballs life throws you, make sure you always find time for laughter and for spending time with family.

It is now in losing my final grandparent, that this sets in even harder.

Love you grandpa and thanks for all the laughs.