Harold Henry Sargent Sr.
I'm not sure where to begin. I feel like I have so much to say and nothing to say all at the same time. When my Oma passed away six years ago I was sad and miss her to this day but my dad was always the head of the household so, even though she was gone, the family felt in tact. When my Nana passed away nearly 15 years ago I was devastated -- broken at the core. She was my heart and her tenderness, laughter and joy of life made my childhood bearable. My heart was truly broken and it took years to stop feeling that constant ache in my chest -- to think of her without crying -- her memories now bring a smile to my face even though I still miss her terribly. But Grampie was still there and her passing -- while felt significantly by the entire family -- still left him at the head of the family.
When Grampie died on October 21 it was sudden, even though it was expected. It was cruel, even though he'd led a full 85 years. It was devasting in only the way losing your only grandfather and last grandparent can be. It broke my heart because of how desperately I loved him, admired him, respected him...thought he would go on forever. I haven't figured out yet how to cope with this. It makes me feel my own mortality even more deeply. My Uncle Hal, at the young age of 53, is now the oldest living male Sargent in our family. Our patriarch is gone and with him a critical piece of how I became the person I am today. Our family has been aimlessly wandering since my Nana's passing -- getting the family together and keeping it close was her thing, not his -- and now that he's gone too will that missing piece of the puzzle keep the rest of us "pieces" from joining together to create a complete image? Attending the visitation and funeral made me realize just how much I miss my family. Erika, Christian, Mindy and I have never spent that much time together and, despite the grief we were dealing with, I enjoyed having them close to me -- it was comforting, reassuring and in a lot of ways fun. I loved spending that time with Colton and JT too and hate that I am missing so much of my nephew's life by living 12 hours away. My cousins, I'm the oldest, are grown with lives of their own and seeing the people they have become gave me a tremendous sense of pride. So proud of the legacy that is being created for Nana and Grampie -- even prouder that the legacy continues with Colton and JT.
I have to keep telling myself that Grampie is gone and I wake up every day with a weight on my chest and it sits there all day long. I'm sad. Very, very sad. I don't know what life means without him in it. As long as he was alive my Nana was still alive too and now that he's gone, well it's all just way too final.
My Uncle Rick went with us to their house -- an extremely generous gesture considering the emotional pain he is in -- written all over his face -- the grief he felt was so raw and lord knows he'll be impacted more than any of us by my Grampie's death -- but he took us there anyway. He opened up the garage door and there it was...the house... -- the memories flooded back for all of us. JT and Colton chasing each other in the yard -- their laughter took me back years to my own childhood where their house was full of aunts, uncles and cousins. It was magical. The creaking of the stairs, the smell of the cellar, the house where everything is exactly as my Nana left it. I took Colton upstairs and into the linen closet and shut the door. I made him breathe in one of my favorite smells from my childhood -- wishing the entire time that when I opened up the door that they would both be there -- my Grampie reading the paper and Nana in the kitchen making dinner -- but when I opened the door there was nothing there but the cold reality that they are both gone forever. In their room my mom showed us Grampie's mismatched socks that he put on the radiator until he found their mate -- two pairs lay unmatched, one black and one blue, waiting for their other half. Very symbolic I suppose of my Grandparents waiting all that time to be matched with each other again. In the dishwasher -- a few dirty dishes from over a year ago that Uncle Rick didn't have the heart to wash because he always held out hope that Grampie would come back home and do them himself.
This life, this unfinished business -- how can one die without matching all their socks and washing their dishes? Had he finished his newspaper? Caught up on his Reader's Digests? He can't leave if all those things aren't done. He just can't. Yet somehow he did...he died...how does that happen and why is it that we are never prepared?
Everything changes now and yet nothing changes. I still get up at 5 and am in the office at 7. I still leave at 3 and run at 4:30. I still pick up Colton at 5:30 and make dinner every evening. But now I do those things with a heavy heart, a weary heart. Schrampie, I miss you so much and love you with all my heart.