David L Ripple

Eulogy. How yucky of a word is that. It even sounds dead. Why cant they call it a "Note of
Memory"? Wouldn't that be better. Just like when Mom and I were making grandpa's
funeral arrangments, they used a lot of yucky words like "casket" and "autopsy".
Well, anyways, I guess there's nothing we can do to change that, just like there's
nothing we can do to find out exactly why he died. Here's my story:

I am the oldest of the 17 grandchildren he had. Every month we would go around town paying bills,
grocery shopping, and spending money that he never should have spent (haha). You see he was a very
good man, with a very bad habit. He like to drink his vodka! He never bothered anybody though. He
just liked to drink. Well, I always felt like he was more of a Dad to me than a Grandpa. You see,
we took care of each other. If he needed me I was there. But then came the day when he needed me,
and I wasn't there. The day he died.

I had probly drove by his house a thousand times that day and I even saw him sittin outside on the
porch. But for some stupid reason I didn't stop. I felt bad for going on, but I was avoiding
him because I had barrowed some money from him and wasn't able to pay it back yet. I
don't know why I didn't just go talk to him about it, but any other time I would've
paid him back already, and , well, I guess I just didn't want to see the dissapointment on his
face. Stupid reason, huh? So, anyways, on my last trip of the day I drove right on by again and
went home. About 10 minutes after I got home, his next door neighbor came by. She had picked up my
Uncle Hotrod (grandpa's son, David W. Ripple) from work and they said I needed to get to
grandpa's house, now! They told me that an ambulance was there. Well before they had finished
what they were saying I was running toward my car. My boyfriend, Chris, barely had time to jump in
with me before I took off. When we pulled up, I saw the ambulance. The doors were closed.
"Why are the doors closed?" I thought. "Shouldnt they be open so they can get him in
there and help hime?" I jumped out of the car and immediatley ran for the door. Two
paramedics and a cop stopped me. They told me to remain outside and to stay away from the house.
Of course I wanted to know why, but nobody would tell me. I screamed and yelled at them for what
seemed like forever before hotrod finally looked at me and said "Crystal. It's Dad.
He's Gone." Then I heard a scream. A horrible, desperate, oh my god, scream. I
didn't realize until later that the scream, was mine. I grabbed Chris. Then, the next thing I
remember was going to the ground. I was sitting on the ground falling completly apart when I looked
up at the house and saw him lying on the front porch. I couldn't see his face, just his legs.
I remember saying "Oh, God, he's on the porch!?" When I finally was able to stand
again I realized that I needed to go tell my mom.

Mom lived out side of town about 7 miles or so. All the way out there I was trying to decide how I
was going to tell her. How do you tell someone that their only living parent, their father, is
dead. Then I saw her truck. I honked my horn and flagged her down. She pulled over on the
shoulder. I turned around. I pulled up behind her. She was leaning on the truck crying. I
thought "Oh, she knows! How does she know? Who told her? How did they tell her? I
should've been the one to tell her!" I got out of my car and as I was walking up to her
she said "Is he dead?" All I could do was nod my head and say "Yeah." She
knew. And she found out from sombody that was practicly a stranger. That made everything feel
worse. She said she was on her way to his house but I told her where he was and she changed her
mind. We decided not to go back there until he was gone. My poor Uncle Hotrod ended up having to
identify his body because none of the rest of us could do it. Then came the dreaded part of telling
the rest of the family. See, he had another daughter and more grandchildren that lived in Kansas.
Both of his parents and both of his wives were previously deceased. He had 3 brothers that also
lived in different states. It seems like when a family splits up and moves away from each other
everybody starts dying. It just doesn't seem fair.

Heres the poem I wrote for him:

I was looking for you yesterday, Did you see me?
I called out to you today, Did you hear me?
I'm reaching out for you now, Can you feel me?
Why did you have to go this way?
Why'd you have to go at all?
Why wasn't I there that day?
Why did I let you fall?
Why were you lying on the poarch like that?
Why were you already gone?
Why didn't I get to say goodbye?
And Why didn't you have your glasses on?
Was Grandma there?
And Stephen, And Jo?
Did they take your hand,
And lead you home?
Did they take you to the most beautiful place,
Where nothing matters,
Not time nor space?
Can you see?
Can you hear?
Do you know you fell?
Do you know you're in heaven,
Finally freed from this hell?
Do you know how much I miss you?
Do you know how hard things are?
Do you know I felt you with me,
Last night driving in my car?
I catch a glimps of you sometimes,
Sitting in your chair like you used to do.
And I remember the times we'd go to the creek,
And I'd sit right next to you.
We'd talk and we'd laugh
As you took a cold bath.
With your soap in your hand, you'd say
"Hey, alright, I'm human again!"
I really miss you ol' man
But I think I'll be alright
As long as you stay here,
In my dreams every night
You may be gone now,
But I can guarantee,
I'll always and forever,
Be your C.D.