Missing the Unknown
I was born and raised, for a few years, in Oklahoma. In the early 90's my parents took a chance on a job and we left for eastern Ohio where my father trained for his new position. A few moves later I am now in Paul, Idaho with a family of my own and an incredible job. But...there is something missing, there will always be something missing.
My paternal grandfather, Michael Fauvell, grew up in Brooklyn and had that typical accent Here, an accent I have no memory of, but would give anything to hear. My grandmother tells me that his coworkers would love it when he spoke, particularly when he would need to count. I have one faint memory of this man. We were visiting Oklahoma when I was about 12 and we went to the restaurant my grandfather was managing, I remember him sweeping. That's it. I wish I had more. I wish I had him. I found, and continue to find, myself longing for something that never really was...
I was serving an LDS mission in Colorado in 2008 when I got a letter from my parents telling me my grandfather wasn't doing well and that we may lose him. It hurt. Instead of worrying about losing a man that meant so much to me, I worried about losing a man that I barely knew. I thought about what my faith taught me and where that left my grandfather(he had been out of the church for a number of years). I thought about my own father and his feelings. Thankfully, he pulled through. When I came home I swore I would make it a point to go see him. I didn't.
My grandfather became ill again around Christmas of 2011, and this time, we knew he was leaving us. My father flew out and was able to spend the final days of his father's life with him. I don't know how he spent those final days with him, and I don't want to. I am sure those are moments my father will hold near to himself the rest of his life. Grandpa Fauvell died Christmas day.
My emotions were similar to those I had as a missionary just three years earlier. What next? How am I supposed to feel? Does he still look like the man I faintly remember in that Mexican restaurant? Why does this hurt? I didn't know him.
It was an odd day. Other than my mission, I had spent every Christmas with both of my parents. Caitlin and I had just gotten married so it was our first Christmas together and my first Christmas without my father. It was hard on my mother. It was just different. I caught a glimpse of the life of my wife. I caught a glimpse of another man that I had never met but missed dearly. John.
Caitlin lost her dad at the beginning of her senior year of high school. He had a brief bout with cancer and died a few weeks after his diagnosis. These are men I never knew, yet, they are men that influence every day of my life. From my last name to my children, these men are very much alive. I depend on my wife and family to tell me who these men were, how they lived, how they loved, and how they influenced others.
I am so lucky to have my family. I recognize that I have never experienced the loss of a close loved one but I promise that I recognize what could have been. And that hurts. I think about this almost every day. It motivates me to get to know my family, near and far. Grandpa Fauvell has been gone 5 years this Christmas, and John has been gone a little over 7 years. While I do miss what never was, I look forward to making the most of what lies in front of me.
My paternal grandfather, Michael Fauvell, grew up in Brooklyn and had that typical accent Here, an accent I have no memory of, but would give anything to hear. My grandmother tells me that his coworkers would love it when he spoke, particularly when he would need to count. I have one faint memory of this man. We were visiting Oklahoma when I was about 12 and we went to the restaurant my grandfather was managing, I remember him sweeping. That's it. I wish I had more. I wish I had him. I found, and continue to find, myself longing for something that never really was...
I was serving an LDS mission in Colorado in 2008 when I got a letter from my parents telling me my grandfather wasn't doing well and that we may lose him. It hurt. Instead of worrying about losing a man that meant so much to me, I worried about losing a man that I barely knew. I thought about what my faith taught me and where that left my grandfather(he had been out of the church for a number of years). I thought about my own father and his feelings. Thankfully, he pulled through. When I came home I swore I would make it a point to go see him. I didn't.
My grandfather became ill again around Christmas of 2011, and this time, we knew he was leaving us. My father flew out and was able to spend the final days of his father's life with him. I don't know how he spent those final days with him, and I don't want to. I am sure those are moments my father will hold near to himself the rest of his life. Grandpa Fauvell died Christmas day.
My emotions were similar to those I had as a missionary just three years earlier. What next? How am I supposed to feel? Does he still look like the man I faintly remember in that Mexican restaurant? Why does this hurt? I didn't know him.
It was an odd day. Other than my mission, I had spent every Christmas with both of my parents. Caitlin and I had just gotten married so it was our first Christmas together and my first Christmas without my father. It was hard on my mother. It was just different. I caught a glimpse of the life of my wife. I caught a glimpse of another man that I had never met but missed dearly. John.
Caitlin lost her dad at the beginning of her senior year of high school. He had a brief bout with cancer and died a few weeks after his diagnosis. These are men I never knew, yet, they are men that influence every day of my life. From my last name to my children, these men are very much alive. I depend on my wife and family to tell me who these men were, how they lived, how they loved, and how they influenced others.
I am so lucky to have my family. I recognize that I have never experienced the loss of a close loved one but I promise that I recognize what could have been. And that hurts. I think about this almost every day. It motivates me to get to know my family, near and far. Grandpa Fauvell has been gone 5 years this Christmas, and John has been gone a little over 7 years. While I do miss what never was, I look forward to making the most of what lies in front of me.
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