Losing my Grandfather

One of the saddest chapters in my life was the death of my Grandfather. It happened during the summer of 1978. My family was starting off on a road trip to go to Washington, DC.
We had been looking forward to this trip all year. We were going to do all the touristy stuff: Go to the White House, Congress, Lincoln Memorial, the Smithsonian. I thought it was going to be more fun than Disneyland. (Yes, I actually thought that.)

When we started the trip, we stopped at the hospital in Lubbock, TX. Granddad Ogolon was there getting a knee replacement surgery, or something like that. We visited him in his room. Grandma Ogolon was there. I remember him breathing into this machine that had a small picture of a clown on it.

It seemed like we were there for a couple of hours. I don't remember this part, but Loyd says he and I went and played on the elevators. The tallest building in Artesia was three stories high, so we didn't get to ride in elevators very much. I only remember spending time with Granddad.

We left the hospital and I really don't recall very much about the trip up until the point we got close to Nashville. I do remember when we crossed a bridge and wound up in a new time zone. It was neat because it was very obvious when we had to change our watches. It's not like driving from New Mexico to Texas, where you see the "Now Leaving New Mexico" sign and a mile later you see the "Welcome to Texas" sign. (Is that line on the map that marks the boundaries between the two states actually a mile wide?)

When we got to Nashville, we went to the GREATEST KOA KAMPGROUND IN THE WORLD! I couldn't believe all the stuff they had there, compared to the other KOA Kampgrounds we had been to before the last few years. They had this amazing arcade! They had mini-golf! They had a huge swimming pool! And since we were in Nashville, they had live music!

The fun and games ended that night. We received word that Granddad had suffered a stroke at the hospital and that he might not make it through the night. None of us could sleep. The next morning, Dad called the hospital and found out that he had died.

The first thing we had to do was get Dad to the Nashville airport so that he could fly home to help the family take care of things. Then, Mom had to drive Loyd and me all the way back to New Mexico where we would meet up with the rest of the family. For my Mom, it was a nerve-wracking experience because she had never driven the camper on her own. We only made one overnight stop along the way. I don't remember where we were, but the KOA Kampground we stopped at was really cruddy. (Not just compared to Nashville, I might add. It was probably the worst one we'd ever been to.)

We made it to the ranch the next day. Loyd and I got out of the camper and sadly hugged Grandma. Other family members were there. I don't remember too much about what happened between the time we got there and the next day when the funeral took place. I recall Aunt Berd talked about how her two youngest children, Rid and Jud, would not be at the funeral because they were too young to know what was going on.

At the church, we all came in together as a family. My cousin Wend was especially broken up before the service started. I didn't cry or anything during the funeral. There were a lot of people gathered outside the church because there wasn't enough room inside to hold everyone who had come. The pastor delivering the sermon expressed how well-known my grandfather was throughout the state of New Mexico. I wasn't aware that many people knew much about my grandfather, but judging by the turnout at his funeral, I guess it was true.

As I've mentioned before, I had been to one funeral before this one. However, that was just for a friend I only knew for 3 1/2 years. This was someone I'd known my entire life. On top of that, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be around. This started to sink in as the service continued. When it ended, we waited for everyone to walk by his open casket, then it was our turn. I didn't really spend a lot of time at the casket, I just felt like I had to keep the line moving.

The graveyard was in the next block over, so we didn't need to drive over there. The layout of the graveyard in Grady is very strange. You never know whether you're standing on someone's grave if you're not careful.

The graveyard service was concluded and we all sort of went back to our lives pretty soon after that. However, the effects of my grandfather's death would continue into our lives for a little bit after that. I'll get into that in the next post.

Just like I was unaware that our visiting Granddad in the hospital would be the last time we would see him, I was unaware that summer would also be the last cross-country road trip vacation our family would go on. We never did get to go to Washington, DC and I myself have never gotten to go.
It feels like we lost a lot more than we bargained for that summer.