1926 | 2018

Robert Terry represents freedom. I grew up with 4 grandparents. "Grandma and Grandpa's" house meant that we were going to my dad's parents house, "Grandma Dorothy" and simply "Grandpa" is how we referred to my mom's parents. 

Grandma and Grandpa's always smelled of hickory. I didn't know what the smell was growing up, but looking back that's what it was. Grandpa wore a red flannel shirt a lot, it was warm to hug him. I don't remember the last time he was able to hug back. 

He died on September 1st, 2018 at 12:37am. My mom called me at 12:53am and told me. My brother and I got to the house around 1:15am when we learned the time of death I had already seen his lifeless body in the same bed he had been in when I fed him water through a syringe a few days before. The same bed he had been in for weeks...

In our last conversation, after he said he had got his fill of the water, I asked him if he needed anything else. He said, "No, I don't need anything." I said OK, and told him that we love him. He said "I love you too", closed his eyes, and began murmuring incoherently, as he had begun to weeks before, only now it was most of his conversation. 

I couldn't make out those words, but when he finished saying them, his eyes remained closed. I told him he could rest, and he murmured "OK".

I remembered that he had asked earlier if I was okay. He would ask that frequently, at every visit. I would ask if he was okay and he said: "I've been better". He'd look at me with his kind eyes and ask "How are you?" And I'd tell him what I was up to. He would listen so intently. He would always keep looking at me while I spoke... His eyes would shine, and he'd have this smile on his face. The topic of conversation was usually light, but his smile felt like why. Like he was just happy to be listening. 

He saw me. I could have told him anything. I could have told him I was queer or that I was polyamorous and I think he would have kept that smile. He would just listen.

I remember very little specific advice from my grandpa. But his lessons by way of example have guided me my entire life. He taught me to care without caring. To say yes to life, and let life say whatever it wants back. 

When I told him that I was acting professionally, he said: "that's what you wanted to do!" I smiled, I forgot that I had told him that years ago.

"That's good... Always know what you want to do, and what you don't want to do- and prepare for both."

That is what freedom is. The opportunity to exist is a sentient right- the opportunity to truly live is a gift to those who accept it. No matter what happened in Grandpa's life, he was ready. He was prepared- not only to win but to lose, too. 

To fail and succeed. 

To fall and get up.

To accept the world as it is, and still be a force in making it better than it was before he arrived.

A lesson like that lives forever. 

Thank you, Grandpa. Thank you so much. 

♥️