No Coincidences

Tag: grandma

  • Bengie

    Bengie

    We met it seems, such a short time ago.

    You looked at me, needing me so.

    Yet from your sadness our happiness grew.

    And I found out I needed you too.

    I remember how we used to play.

    I recall those rainy days.

    Goodbye may seem forever.

    Farewell is like the end.

    But in my heart’s a memory.

    And there, you’ll always be.

    Bengie started with Grandma Leach. He was too high energy. My grandparents didn’t know even a puppy could have that much energy.

    Laura, Jon, and Sydney took Bengie next. Bengie became Laura’s comfort dog through all her time being sick. He would often be found cuddling with her, especially at the end. I visited Bengie when I was 21 and lost. I talked to Bengie when I wasn’t talking to God.

    Grandma is no longer with us.

    When Grandma was around, Bengie would run to her. It may have been due to Grandma having a weak spot for sneaking him food from the kitchen. Bengie remembered his first companion.

    When Laura no longer needed Bengie and Beth had a hole to fill, Bengie stepped in with honor.

    Bengie took care of a lot of people while he was here.

    If we believe there is a plan in this life, which I do, then Bengie was here for many important reasons. Few dogs get to accomplish so much.

    I’m having a difficult time writing this because I’ve tried not to think about how he’s gone. I couldn’t be there when it happened. I asked Beth to do it because Beth is tougher than me.

    Bengie was struggling for a long time.

    Before he left for the last time with Beth, I took him on one last walk. He hadn’t been going on walks with us for a long time. That last walk confirmed to me the right decision was being made. He could hardly navigate even the open space, stumbling from bush to bush.

    It had been so long since Bengie had been himself, I’d almost forgotten. Beth showed me some videos that reminded me of all the fun we used to have. Before kids I played with him everyday. Now I play with my girls everyday.

    We used to take Bengie on long bike rides. Bengie would run alongside us. Sometimes I would take him off the leash and I was amazed at how he could fly. When we’d go on bike trips, inevitably an old Scottsdale woman would show concern about the little dog running alongside a bike in the heat. Little did they know when we got home he’d run around nonstop until we finally went to bed. Bengie could run forever.

    Bengie used to cuddle with anyone that would sit still. He loved laying with Ivy before she started walking.

    He was a great dog.

    You know that movie All Dogs go to Heaven?

    I believe all dogs do go to heaven. There is a special place reserved for the companions sent here to comfort us.

    Death isn’t the end, even for pets. That’s awesome. I’m glad I’ll be able to see Bengie again. Next time I see him, maybe he’ll even be able to talk, who knows?

    That’ll be a day.

  • Letter to Grandpa Q

    Letter to Grandpa Q

    My grandpa Stan recently turned 90 years old. For his birthday, all his children and grandchildren wrote him a letter. This is the letter I wrote to my grandpa.

    Grandpa,

    One of my earliest memories was my first and only trip to Grandaddy Lake. It was horrible. Keep in mind, I was maybe 4. It rained the whole time. It was so miserable. But I still remember it.

    I remember hiking back after the long week there. It was raining. I’m not sure it ever stopped raining. I was walking through mud, and I was crying. Everyone else was hiking with big backpacks for the trip. I had my little toy backpack on, and I was crying about it, about the hike, about the rain, about the mud, about my miserable existence.

    You got frustrated with me. It was the only time I recall seeing you frustrated/angry/mad. I cried more.

    My dad took my little backpack. I still have a memory of my dad shirtless, hiking in the rain. He was hiking now with his huge backpack on his back and my little backpack on his shoulder.

    I looked around at all my aunts, uncles, you, and my dad and realized no one else was complaining. Everyone was cold, wet, and frustrated, but no one was complaining.

    This core memory has stuck with me. I like to think it impacted me and in some minor, or possibly major ways, has shaped me.

    The Las Vegas Quackenbush clan (my family) has never been to Granddaddy Lake. We have our modern-day equivalent. We now go to the theme park Six Flags Magic Mountain multiple times a year. It is a requirement that any future in-law go through the gauntlet of a 12-hour day at Magic Mountain before they can even think about being accepted into the family.

    When Beth came to Six Flags with us for the first time, we were all so happy because there was a high heat warning. The lines were great! Meanwhile, we almost died. My roommate came with us to Six Flags once. He’s sworn to never return.

    I now have two daughters that I joke, tongue-in-cheek, about needing to remove as much Cannon from (Beth’s maiden name) and insert as much Quackenbush into as possible.

    This is the Grandaddy Lake mindset. More importantly, this is what it is to be a Quackenbush. I take pride in my name.

    I take pride in you.

    I take pride in our pioneer roots.

    I take pride in the foundation of faith I have been afforded.

    I take pride in what you and Grandma built, for me.

    I take pride in what you and Grandma built, for my family, for my daughters.

    I want to thank you for choosing an eternal companion of from among the devoted young women of The Kingdom. That is a line from my patriarchal blessing. I was able to choose an eternal companion who is an amazing mother, wife, and person because of you. I am able to raise my daughters with a confidence in things eternal because of you and Grandma. I am able to see the bigger picture, endure, have faith, progress, learn, grow, and get better, all with an understanding of who I am and where I come from, because of you and Grandma.

    I don’t know what I did to earn the position in the family I’ve been given, but I thank you.

    I look forward to one day having a life review. I hope to see some or all of your life review and Grandma’s life review. I look forward to one day seeing all the sacrifices endured and trials met head on by Grandma and yourself so that I could have the mortal experience I have been afforded. You and Grandma are a foundation. You created a foundation. In this life I’ll never fully understand all you went through and struggled with so I could have what I have. One day, I hope to understand. On that day, I will stand, and I will kneel, and I will thank my progenitors, you, for what you did for me. We all will.

    Thank you. We love you. We are grateful for you.

    With all the love you deserve, and I can give,

    Brayden

  • Grandma, I will see you soon

    Grandma, I will see you soon

    I believe Sandra Leach was in her early 30s when she accepted the message of the missionaries of Jesus Christ. I have thanked her for that choice every day of my entire life.

    I love you Grandma. Thank you.

    The greatest gift my grandmother gave me was the gift of a gospel household and a gift of the knowledge of the great Plan of Heavenly Father.  Why is this the greatest gift?  Death should hurt.  Because I know where my grandma is going and because I know I will see her again, death becomes less a sting of bitterness and more a quiet celebration.  I know who is greeting my grandmother, I know the peace and joy she will have as she waits for us to finish our race.  Especially when a good person passes, and there’s few better than my grandma, Sandra Leach, I know where she’s going is so marvelous and wonderful.  It will be sad for us who have to stay.

    It will be a brief stay away.

    I know that Grandma has a lot to do. I know that she’s working alongside Laura now.

    Soon, one day in the near future, when my race is hopefully won, I will meet her again.  We’ll sit in some glorious place I can’t describe; I don’t have the vocabulary or ability to imagine the setting of Heaven.  We will sit and we will go over every single book she read, that she passed to me, that I read.  The books will be in the hundreds!  The notes we’ll share!  I can’t wait.  We’ll have so much to discuss.  She’ll have so much more to teach me.  Just like she taught me here, she’ll teach me there.  I’ll thank her.  I imagine there are happy tears in Heaven.  I can already see and feel tears of joy pouring from my face as I thank her for leading me there.  I will thank her for her perseverance, effort, and determination to raise a righteous home.  I will thank her for teaching my mother about God, and Jesus Christ.  I will thank her for listening to the missionaries.  I will thank her for her faith.  I will thank her for the foundation she established so I could live a joyful life leading to the ultimate joy.  That moment with her and my loved ones.  Discussing our life past and the great future ahead.

    I long for eternity.  I know eternity is just on the other side of me closing my eyes for good from this existence.  I don’t long for death.  I’m not anxious to leave all I love here.  I am excited for my future of laying a foundation of love, faith, and obedience for my daughters.  I am excited for my time on this earth to do all the things my grandmother taught me were important.

    How can I ever thank my grandma for what she’s given me?  I can only give it to my daughters and all those around me.

    Thank you, Grandma.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart and soul.

    I don’t long for death, but I am excited for it.  I am excited for eternity with you.  I have no fear of death because I know it will be on God’s time and terms.  I know it will be for a purpose.  Death will only mean temporarily leaving others to reunite with family that has gone ahead.  How great it is to have no fear of death.  How great it is to know why I’m here. Thank you, Grandma, for that gift.

  • House Pets

    House Pets

    Sometimes I look at my dog and think, “he wouldn’t last 5 minutes out in the real world.”  If he had to go out and hunt/scavenge for food and water, on his own, no chance.  Being cute getting someone to give him food and water would be his only chance at survival.  If that option is removed, he’s a goner.

    Look at this picture. It looks like he just ate a plate of strawberries and his afternoon plans are to lounge and get belly rubs.

    Exhibit A

    Granted, he is an 8-pound poodle/terrier mix.  He wasn’t bred to survive in the wild.  He was bred to be cute and to get people to give him stuff.  I’m just saying, removing that option = goner. 

    I can already hear the “big” dog owners.  “My dog would survive in the wild.  Yours is closer to a cat, mine still has some wolf instincts.”  OK.  Your golden retriever is not surviving a week in the wild without its cute factor, just the same as my poodle/terrier. 

    Golden Retriever Dog Birthday Photograph by Kathy Sidjakov
    Exhibit B

    My dog lives the most cushy life imaginable.  He sleeps all the time.  He wakes up and eats.  He sleeps some more.  He goes on walks.  Then he sleeps.  He plays.  He goes on bike rides.  At 9:30pm he stares me dead in the eyes and I know he’s saying, “You know good and well it’s time for bed.”

    It wasn’t until just recently that a very obvious and humbling fact slapped me right across the face.  I wouldn’t survive a week out in the wild.

    I was looking at my (adorable) little dog curled up on the bed, petting his soft hair, admiring how good he is, being jealous of how easy his life is, when I had that thought.  “You poor pathetic creature.  What would you do without me?”

    Who was I talking to?

    *Slap to the face.

    What would I do out in the wild?

    Here I was in my air-conditioned condo, with a giant Hydrapeak water bottle filled to the brim with ice cold water that I filled from my refrigerator.  That morning I’d poured Berry Colossal Crunch into a bowl, pulled a cold jug of milk from the refrigerator, and had cereal, like a proper grown man should do.  That morning I’d taken a piping hot shower.  I let the water run long enough so that it was plenty warm.  Cold shower?  No chance!  Running water came from a tap where I put a toothbrush I’d squeezed mint toothpaste onto to brush my teeth.  I then sat in a comfortable chair and worked at a computer. 

    Who was I to judge my dog?  I was living the same life my dog was!

    Put me out in the wild without food and water and tell me to figure it out.  Remove the option of me going to someone’s door and saying, “please feed me,” and I had no chance.

    I don’t think we take the time often enough to

    1. Stop and realize how blessed we are.
    2. Realize how pathetic we are.

    What would I do out in the wild without a can opener? Let alone having to hunt and find food?

    I’ve recently read a couple books about the old west.  A story I just read was about an 11-year-old boy who ran off with some Shoshone Indians (Native Americans).  He lived two years with them.  Eating buffalo meat.  Hunting rabbits.  Fishing for trout.  I was amazed at the life this boy lived just 170 years ago.

    Can you imagine if your ancestors could look at you now?  What a pathetic sight you would be.  Your great-great-great-great grandpa would marvel at your fancy light up information device and cans of food but would ask you, do you know how to hunt?  Do you know how to guide yourself by the stars?  Do you know how to survive without your pre-packaged meals and Uber eats? (Reminder- that great grandfather would be so perplexed by Uber eats).

    Can you imagine your great-great-great-great grandmother asking where you keep the chickens?  How do you grind the wheat for your bread?  (Do you grind wheat for bread??? I DON’T KNOW!)  Can you even cook without that radiation device that nuclearizes your food into something *edible?

    While modern advances are amazing, truly amazing; we have become so pathetic.

    That’s all.

    Just thought I would remind all of us of that.

    Next time you look at your house cat, little dog, big dog, or even your fish and scoff and say “you dumb and spoiled animal,” I hope you pause for a second and soak in the irony.