Texas, Tennessee, Texas, HOME

I've disappeared for over a week. I know.



I've been in Tennessee since the begining of last week and I'm currently in Texas again. Again because if you'll remember I was just in Texas.

Last weekend, as I was enjoying being back at home, doing laundry and watching movies, I found out that my grandfather had passed away.

I want to pause here and tell you what a truly wonderful man my grandpa was. We weren't really blood relatives, but he married my grandma and adopted my dad when he was very young so he's the only dad my father really knew and the only grandpa I've ever known on that side of the family. He worked hard serving his country in the military and then came back and served his community on the police force. He was very handy- always making furniture for us little kids and building all sorts of items for the house. I remember him always having multiple projects going on and he'd finish every single one of them. My grandpa was also a true gentleman. He treated my grandmother (and all "ladies") with the utmost respect. It was his goal to leave very little for my grandma to do around the house- not that it ever really stopped her from doing what she wanted to do anyway, but he tried.

One of my fondest memories of my grandpa is from Thanksgiving a few years back. We had flown out to visit a week before so no one else was in town just yet. He had a hankering for a pie, but it was getting late and we couldn't really run to the store so he poked around the kitchen and came up with his own idea for a pie. He called it "Buttermilk Pie", and guess what the main ingredient was? Buttermilk. I was curious since I don't normally think of buttermilk as being appetizing or as a main ingredient for any dessert. I watched as he combined sugar and eggs and some spices and then poured the creamy mixture into a pie crust and gently set it in the oven. A little while later he pulled out a pretty looking pie. We let it cool and then he cut a generous slice and set it on a plate in front of me. "Why don't you try that and tell me what you think," he said. I tentatively slid my fork into the custard-like filling and smelled the bite before I stuck it gingerly into my mouth. I was shocked. It was like Egg Nog and vanilla pudding had been combined into a silky delicious pie. I loved it. I've looked up recipes since for a "Buttermilk Pie" but none of them seem to be close to what he made.

Roy Gorman was a loving grandfather who had the warmest disposition and the sweetest, oddest nicknames for us all. I was "Heatherini", my cousin was dubbed "Turtle Head" (who knows why, he didn't look like a turtle at all), and countless other ones I won't mention here (to spare those involved the certain embarassment to follow).

I went to work on Monday not knowing what the plan was and I already had plane tickets to Dallas (for work). I waited all morning to hear from my family what was going on with the funeral, etc. Finally my dad called me and let me know the details. I talked to my wonderful boss and she told me to go ahead and cancel my work trip to Texas and get down to Tennessee to be with my family.

I flew out of Portland at ass o'clock in the morning (6am) on Tuesday which meant that I had to get up at 3:30 to leave the house shortly after 4 in order to arrive at PDX at 4:30 and make my boarding call. I had a quick layover in Denver and then continued to Nashville, TN where my dad and uncle picked my mom and myself up. We had to travel in our dress clothes because we went straight from the airport to the viewing.

We stayed at the funeral home for the viewing until 8 pm (central time) and I was exhausted and starving by then. Wednesday afternoon was the memorial service and funeral service. It was really strange looking at this skinny pale man lying in a casket with waxy looking skin and wispy hair. It didn't look like my grandpa or feel like my grandpa (yeah, I'm weird like that and stuck my hand into the casket to touch his hands- it just seemed like I should) or smell like his old man aftershave. I had a very hard time watching my grandma stop at the casket and kiss my grandpa one last time on the forehead and stroke his cheek

It was quite windy and cold out so we didn't linger that long in the cemetery. When we got back to the house the phone rang and before I could reach it the machine picked up. My grandpa's voice was still the greeting and it echoed through the house in a strange comforting way. I just sort of stood in the hall and listened to it and breathed really deeply- the house still smells like his aftershave and cologne. I think he's used the same ones since before I was born.

I think I was in a pretty good fog for a couple of days- I wasn't really super emotional, I was just sort of exhausted. I think sometimes that's how I handle tough situations; not getting overly emotional or stressed, I just sort of float through it and try to bouy every else up with me.

My grandma and dad did a wonderful job planning everything.

It was an emotionally draining few days. I stayed the rest of the week in Tennessee with the family; got to visit the "kin folk" that I normally don't get to see or talk to, so that was nice. The weather warmed up while we were there and by the time I flew out of Memphis on Sunday evening it was 70 degrees and sunny.

So now I'm in Texas for a few days.

AND it's my birthday week. I'm a quarter of a century old. I can now think of myself as old if I want to, but I don't have to... yet.

I'm exhausted and ready to be home, but being home won't slow life down. I've got a "To Do" list ten miles long.

I promise I'll post some pretty pictures from Texas and whatnot soon.