On Death, Gratefulness, and the Writing of Novels

The house is dark and quiet. I'm still jetlagged, unable to stay up past 9pm and unable to sleep past six. Today is a full day, so I figured I might as well get up and get to it. Today, is the long awaited John Green Day. In a few hours, College Brother will be here from Corvallis and later this afternoon we'll adventure over to attend a book signing the likes of which I've never seen. And I've seen a lot...from the sad sort of events where no one shows up to the Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer Sold-Out Masterpiece. Stay tuned for a future blog post regarding this day.

I'll be honest here, this past week has been more than a little bit rough. I have been fortunate not to have experienced a lot of death in my life. The first real blow hit me when I was 13 and one of my best friends was hit by a car and killed. It took me a great long time to come to terms with losing Adam (the first boy I ever slow danced with) and there isn't a May 8th that goes by when I don't think about him.

I've lost two other grandparents. One had long term health issues and the other had cancer. I loved them both dearly. I don't want to diminish that in any way, but the relationship I had with Grandpa Shasky was different and I will miss him so very, very much. I am grateful I was able to get as much time with him as I did. 87 years is a pretty impressive run. I am grateful that I was able to go back and spend time with family and to have a work environment that allowed me to do so without a second thought. I am grateful for a staff that kept things going while I was away and made my reentry as painless as possible. I am grateful for my husband and for friends who've sent kind messages and loaned me suitcases at the last moment.

In short, I am very grateful, even though I might also be very sad.

In the midst of all this, I've still been able to keep my writing going. The novel has moved forward and I am bewildered to find I am somehow still on schedule. How it all happened, I am not exactly sure. I was talking to a work friend early yesterday morning and after we talked about work stuff, we started talking about life stuff and he asked me about my book. I began to talk about how this project has been so different than any of the others I've worked on over the years, how even coming home after a long day I can't wait to dive in and get started with the work, how the hours will fly by as I get lost in the words, in my words. There is a passion connected with this project that overwhelms and inspires me. I love that I love to work on it.

In fact...

Grandpa Shasky 11/7/1924-1/19/2012

This past week, my grandfather passed away. He went into the hospital on Sunday with some chest pains, and on Thursday morning, he left us. I'm currently at a Fryin' Pan in Wahpeton, North Dakota (something akin to a Sherri's or a Denny's) to take advantage of their wifi and to get some breakfast and what passes for coffee.  (Desperate, I did a Starbucks search and came up with the previously unimaginable response "We're sorry, but no stores were found in your area.")

My grandfather was an amazing man, amazing father, amazing grandfather. I think it's still too hard for me to say much without getting overwhelmingly emotional. I'm tearing up over my hashbrowns as I type even that. The funeral is tomorrow and I don't know how I'm going to make it and I wish that my husband was able to be there with me. I don't know how I'm going to make it through, let alone read the Tennyson poem that I've been requested to read.

I have no doubt I'll write more about my grandfather in the days and months (and years) to come, but for now I'll leave you with some of his own words. My grandfather was a tailgunner on a B-17 during WWII and has been sharing stories over the past few years, which I am so grateful to have heard. A couple years ago, he gave me the collection of letters he'd written home to his parents and his brothers. I've transcribed them and have been slowly putting them together to share with the family. I had suspected the rest of the family did not know about these letters and as I brought a few along to share with them, my suspicions were confirmed. I feel so honored that he chose to share these with me.

Here is one I'll share with you. It's one of my favorites and gives me goosebumps to think about what it must have been like to celebrate V-E Day (Victory in Europe Day), especially as a soldier.

S/Sgt. Paul J. Shasky 37556523

487 Bomb Gp. 837 Bomb Sq.

A.P.O. 559 c/o P.M.

N.Y.C., New York

Mr. R.F. Shasky

Forman, North Dakota

                                                                                                 England

                                                                                                May 12^th, 1945

Dear Folks,

Believe it or not, England finally has warmed up. The past few days the sun has been shining and the temperature really went up. So now I’m beginning to wish they had issued me some suntans instead of only O.D.’s. One of these days I’ll probably be wishing just the other way around so it doesn’t make much difference.

My last letter I wrote was a little premature in the respect to the celebrating of V-E day. That night everything happened. I don’t know how many flares were actually shot up, but those Fourth of July celebrations with a fireworks display were just plain puny compared with this. From ten p.m. till one in the morning the base was lit up like daylights. The haystacks had been accidentally set on fire plus all those flares. Red, green, sparklers, and everything else. To top it off, it was practically impossible to find a sober guy in camp.

Well, I don’t have anything else of interest to discuss so will close. Though tomorrow they are having a huge air review consisting of every air arm in the E.T.O. I don’t have to fly, but my pilot will. It will pass over London, Brussels Paris, and a few other places. Really is going to be something to watch.

                                                                                    As always,

                                                                                    Paul

Taken when I went to visit the WWII Memorial in Washington D.C. over Memorial Day 2010