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December 10th, 1997

I've played around with the idea of writing about or the subject of Christmas. There is much I have desired to say and yet have decided much of it is left unspoken. Christmas is my favorite holiday. There are plenty of family birthdays throughout the month: mine and Jason and Wade's. Mine being Christmas Eve and theirs on the nineteenth. Christmas invokes multiple meaning such as love, passion, grace, and redemption. All are great topics that one-day I should hope to write on. However there is a meaning that follows closer to me than those others. For me, the holiday symbolizes a celebration of family.

 
And fourteen years ago I lost part of my family. 
 
 
The cool December weather was a welcomed changed to the dreary Fall November brought with it. The rays of sun reflected down on the winter wonderland of snow, glaring an animus light off the ground below. 10:15am, I found myself in my Bible Studies class, a cliché class fit only for a parochial school. At twelve years of age, I was preoccupied with two thoughts: finally turning thirteen in two weeks and what gifts I would be able to open on Christmas Day. Shallow and pedantic I know, yet I was living in the 90s: the age of stylish, electronic yo-yos, Nintendo 64, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, the Taco Bell chihuahua, and the Dodge Viper. Yet beyond those definitive icons, I sat in a Bible class at 10:15am getting ready to prepare a Christmas skit in front of my classmates. 

Little did I know this would be a life-changing day.

Around 10:35, a few of my friends were performing their skit about military history and the possibility of World War III, and that is when I saw it. An ambulance. Now ordinarily, it would never have bothered me, but there was something worrisome about this one; it was different. I found myself to be quite nervous. I wondered about that ambulance and the person within. I say this because my school was right down the road from my grandparent’s home, less than a mile. 

The whole day seemed to pass by so slowly. I was antsy. I just wanted to go home. Finally the bell rung at 2:50, telling us it was time to go home. The ride home I was sullen and abnormally quiet. I felt as if something bad had happened. Jason, Wade, and I were dropped off at our home. At 3:05, our house looked dreary and listless. I almost did not recognize it as I was let out of our carpooling van. Edging closer and closer to the door, I felt a knot in my stomach and again I felt that some nervousness that had stolen my attention in third hour. 

We walked through that big walnut colored door to see our mom sitting on the couch. This is never a good sign. She sat us down and explained with tears in her eyes the most unthinkable thing; Grandpa Hindes had passed away that morning. Life seemed to pause as if this moment would never fade. There was a lump in my throat. 

 
My grandpa was gone.
 
 
At twelve, almost thirteen, emotions do not carry the weight they do when you are twenty-seven. You do know how to react when situations and circumstances occur. You become numb, unable to analyze how you are feeling. At twenty-seven, you can shed tears, remember the good times had with that person, and grieve with others. At twelve, it does not make sense. Funeral homes are indicative of all the awkwardness in the world. You cannot greet people at the door or bear emotion with those grieving or sit still for any length of time. 
 
 
You are twelve and you lost someone you cared about.
 
 
It was a difficult season for my dad's side of the family. It appeared to be a chaotic mess of emotion that could not be contained. Christmas came and everyone was there. Family members I had only seen once or twice in my life made an attempt to be a part of my life. Death happened to bring a dysfunctional grouping together. They could grieve together and remember the good times of Donald Hindes. I heard humorous stories of my grandfather's antics and tales of his struggles. It was overwhelming at twelve years old. 
 
 
Still this is a time of regaling stories and celebration.

 

So today, Grandpa Hindes, I celebrate the memories we had for the first almost thirteen years of my life.

This is to my grandfather who introduced to wondrous sport of ice hockey. Who would let me sit in the driver's seat of his Mazda truck and honk the horn until neighbors complained of the annoyance it became. Who always came to Grandparents day at school and told jokes and bs stories to all my friends. Who was never too tired to stay up and read me stories before I went to bed. Who taught me that cowboys were far better than ninjas or pirates. Who gave me an appreciation for Clinton Eastwood and Charles Bronson action films. Who always took me to Cavis Grill to get a hot dog with French fries and chocolate milk. Who was always filled with love.

I will always love and cherish the time we spent together. Thank you for being a man of change. I am truly glad that you were and still are my grandpa. 

 
Love your grandson,

 

Nicholas Barthel Hindes
 

If you enjoyed reading this post, check out another one written by my dad about my grandfather being a man of change in our family. You can read it here. It is great read!

6 Comments

  1. Nick..that was nice. I was thinking about Grandpa and Grandma the other day. Remember how they used to take all 6 of us camping in their camper during the summer? That was so fun. Or Grandpa’s lions mints he always give us?? He was so funny. Gosh I miss him…miss Grandma too

  2. They were truly great times. I don’t think I’ve been back to Cavis Grill since Grandpa passed, even though it’s still open. I was telling Kayla about how Grandma would always be baking cookies and brownies for us whenever we came over. We always did have fun with them.

  3. Nick this was a beautiful tribute to your Grandpa…How his face would light up when you came into the room…He loved all his Grandchildren…One of my best memories of you and grandpa was the year he played Santa at Grandmas work..he walked by in his Santa suit and you were in your Dads arms and looked at Santa and said hi Papa…..it was priceless …you kne him even when others did not.. you got him even when you were a baby…and he knew that.

  5. Good post Nicholas, thanks for honoring grandpa. You have been a blessing to your grandparents on both sides.

    love ya,
    pop

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