The Red and Black

Issue date: 2/15/08 Section: Opinions

CAROLINE RUSE

My Grandpa was known in my family as "The Grump."

He earned the nickname because he was always telling us kids to "keep it down."

"For crying out loud!" he'd bellow, when something really annoyed him.

But he wasn't always grumpy. He watched The Price is Right religiously for as long as I can remember. He loved margaritas, and when he got drunk, he'd wave his hands around to make a point.

Recently, I went home for the weekend to see my Grandpa, knowing that his health was getting worse.

My brother and I planned to visit my dad's apartment, where my Grandpa lived, around 10 Saturday morning to spend the day with him. We got the call just a few minutes before leaving the house.

He had died early that morning.

It was hard to believe. Just months ago, in September, he was taking shots of tequila with his four grandchildren on his 90th birthday.

On Christmas Day, we had eaten popcorn, exchanged jokes and opened presents.

When I arrived the day of his death, I could see the empty hospital bed through the open door of my Grandpa's room. They had brought in the bed just a few days earlier so he could sit up comfortably.

Now the blankets and sheets were folded neatly at its foot.

"He was only in that bed for three nights," my dad and his sister kept saying.

"He didn't have to suffer. He was lucky," they said.

Yes, he was lucky, but I was not.

I had never had the courage to ask him more about himself.

I wanted to hear about his adventures as a pilot in World War II, about his plane going down in China.

I wanted to know where he had traveled in the world as an international pilot.

I wanted to know how he met my grandmother.

But I can't tell these stories, because I never heard them. I never asked.

Since his death, I have found out more about my grandfather than I knew during his life. For starters, his real name was Jack Stiles Ruse, not John Charles Ruse, as my family always had known him. Why he changed his name is just another question I'll never get to ask.

I know I'm not the only student at the University who has lost a special grandparent, but if yours are still alive and healthy, I urge you to ask yourselves: How much do you know about your grandparents?

I know they sometimes can be boring, old-fashioned and hard of hearing.

Maybe they are even grumps.

But I hope you will find the patience and the courage now to find out who they are.

Don't make my mistake and wait until they're gone to find out who they were.

- Caroline Ruse is a page designer for The Red & Black.

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