Thanksgiving, Death and Taxes

First, I would like to say that I hope all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! If we were honest with ourselves and stopped to think about it, we are all truly blessed compared to most others in this world.

I had to make an unexpected trip to Kansas since my Grandpa Koger passed away on the evening of November 23^rd.  Not the ideal way to get home for Thanksgiving.  However, even though it is sad to see him go, he really was one of the fortunate ones. He would have been 92 on December 14^th and had lived pretty much independently right up until his death. He still had his mind and although his physical strength had began to leave him, for 91 he was still pretty mobile. He had done so much for me that I am truly thankful for, but there is part of me that wishes the family dynamic on my dad’s side was different. I wonder how different things would have been had my Grandma Betty not died so young (my dad was only 16 and his youngest sister, Kay, was only 10—I can’t even imagine). But then I have to remind myself that as much as I hate the saying “it is what it is” the truth is, the family dynamic “is what it is.” I won’t go into anymore details and bore you all to tears with family dysfunction…

I do not handle death well.  Never have, and I don’t think I ever will.  I guess it has something to do with the fact that when someone close to us dies it really makes one think about their own mortality and at some point we are all going to die. It’s inevitable. None of us are guaranteed anything here on this earth and it makes me wonder “what will happen if I die and I’m not around to watch my daughter grow up into a young woman?” “What if she is taken from me way too soon?” When we were at the cemetery I had all these thoughts racing through my head—sadness that Grandpa was actually gone, fear that one of my thoughts might come to fruition, and on and on. Then as the military did the 21 gun salute followed by the haunting sound of taps on a crisp, Kansas winter day I thought about my cousin, Charla, who had to bury her first born daughter when she was only ten months old. I can’t even begin to fathom what heartache that must have been for them. Dying old is the natural progression of things, but having to bury your own child so young goes against everything we believe should be.

Grandpa Evan never was one for social situations, so the fact that he checked out so suddenly is only fitting. And I have to chuckle a little bit because it was SO him.  I remember at family Christmases and Thanksgivings how he would be there one minute and completely gone the next without so much as a “goodbye”  or an “I’m gonna take off now.” Never one to make a grand entrance or exit it was always like “where’d he go?” and it was the same with his passing. He also made no bones about the fact he wanted to die in 2010 (the one year in which the estate tax is lapsed) so the government wouldn’t get any more of his money. I picture him laughing from wherever he may be now.

We had a private family burial for him and we are having a memorial service later in December. My only wish is that I would have asked him more questions about his time in OSS (now the CIA). He spoke several languages and was a Yale grad and I know there were so many stories I didn’t know.  He never ceased to amaze me though. I remember when we were in Paris on one of our European trips and we sat down at a restaurant and when the waiter arrived he started ordering…in fluent French. My brother had a similar story when Grandpa went to Middlebury, VT for Rob’s college graduation.  They went to the local Chinese restaurant and Grandpa once again began ordering…this time in fluent Chinese! What the hell, I know!

Grandpa Evan at my wedding--April 2008

I really wish I had a picture of the two us in Minneapolis in the Mall of America on the roller coaster. He insisted we ride it and I didn't buy the dang picture they sell! He was around 80 at the time--I think it was '97? Definitely a time I will never forget!

Rest in peace, Grandpa!