Kenneth Laug
Thursday, July 21, 1927 - Saturday, March 28, 2009
I've been wanting to write this blog for a few weeks now, but haven't been able to pull it together enough to get anything out. I thought I was ready today but as soon as I typed out those dates, my tears started flowing again. So, I guess I'll just work through the tears.
I still have a hard time believing that I'm not going to see him anymore on my visits home to Michigan. It's barely been a month since the doctors first discovered several large brain tumors. Almost a week after we found out about the tumors, they gave him about 2 weeks more to live, and he toughed it out for a few days short of that.
On the night of March 26, I had a dream about him. It wasn't anything detailed, and there were no words. I just kept seeing his face over and over again, and his hands. He looked like he was patiently waiting. So when I woke up, I called my family to tell them I was going to fly home the next day. I wanted to make sure I was able to see him one more time.
He passed away at 3am on the morning of March 28th. There were several of us who woke up at 3am. I believe he was saying good bye. I was just a few hours too late to say good bye in person. I've come to grips with the fact that it's going to take me awhile to get over having missed the last part of his life.
My Grandpa was such a strong man. If you didn't really know him, you'd find him rather intimidating. But he had a sparkle in his eye, even if he wasn't smiling - though usually when I saw him he had a smirk on his face. He called me "annie" from the time I was very little, and used to grab my ponytail in one hand and hold his jack knife in the other - threatening to cut it off. As a kid, I remember him taking my hand (or arm) into his huge hands and jokingly shake it and not let go. At church, as a teenager I'd make sure to give him a hug during the sign of peace because he seemed to get a kick out of it.
He put blood, sweat, and tears into his family farm, and looking through all the old pictures you know he also put his laughter and love. My dad tells me that Grandpa "picked out" my Grandma, and being an outsider of "The Ridge" it may have been a challenge. He made a good choice, she is an amazing and inspiring woman. They celebrated almost 60 years of marriage, had 8 children (4 boys and 4 girls), and 16 grandchildren (we were all born in same-sex pairs: 2 girls, 2 boys, etc.)!
My brother spent some wonderful quality time with him over the last several years, working out at the wood piles. They got to know each other, and really appreciate one another. My grandpa was very proud of my brother; they hold a special place in eachother's heart. My grandpa split wood for my dad up until the week he was diagnosed.
He set a strong example for hard work, loyalty, dedication, and appreciation. After he found out about the tumors, he took his tractor for a slow drive around his acres. The Sunday right before he passed away was the first Sunday he had missed church. He was born in the same house where he took his last breath, just a room away. He will always be remembered and loved by every person his life has touched.
Typically my emotional outlet is writing songs. I did start lyrics about my Grandpa, and hope to finish them within a few months time. I have so many more words to say, and just can't seem to get them all out yet.
