My Grandpa Kenworthy

So today I'd like to tell you about my Grandpa Kenworthy. Today is Sunday, and as I explained to Stacey, the majority of my posts on this blog that are contemplative really come to me on either Friday or Sunday. I think the reason is obvious. I have time off of work. But I think Sundays in particular I have time to reflect and just take it easy.

Well today I had an, "opportunity" to go to drill. Drill for me consists of the same thing I do normally Monday through Thursday, but for an additional two more days of the month. I am a commander of the State Headquarters Unit and I get my fair share of second-guessing and senior-level problems to say the least. Well more often than not, I have day-to-day questions about moving Soldiers and officers, working issues for the unit and then when I have time my actual real-life job that they actually hired me to do. Once in a while, I have an opportunity to sit and counsel with a couple of those good people that keep my faith being renewed in not just the military, but in humanity. One of which was my good friend who has provided well-timed and incredibly insightful advice about life and the pursuit of happiness we've all been promised. The other, was a senior Non Commissioned Officer whom has been having challenges with his father who is now in his mid-eighties. As we talked it brought back memories of my grandfather, William Earl Kenworthy Sr.

My grandfather died in April of 2006. I was serving in Iraq when my grandpa passed. I came home on Emergency Leave and endured a great deal of stress during a marathon three-day trip. Time has a way of slowing down when you cant get where you want to be. Of course my concerns as I left Baghdad were that I would miss the funeral entirely and the opportunity to really grieve him in his passing. My brother passed away as I have written in an earlier post, and I dont feel I really took the opportunity while everyone else did to say goodbye properly. Well I finally left BIAP (Baghdad International Airport) and flew into Bahrain. Which, if you've never been a Soldier traveling alone through a Muslim Neighborhood under duress and just coming out of a war-zone it can be as you can imagine, stressful.

I left Bahrain, after witnessing quarreling at the front desk of the airline and wondering if these folks could just shut up long enough to get my little ticket and get the hell out of Dodge. Well, I made it out of Bahrain, flew into Scottland, and I think I stopped in Amsterdam, or maybe Greece and made a sixty dollar 4 minute phone call to Stacey, and then jetted to the U.S.

I made it in time, and Stacey and I spent a couple of days together and then made the trip down to Saint George from Riverton to attend the funeral. Well before I left, my grandmother via my father had asked me to give the eulogy. I thought this was a little out of place and to be honest, when I saw the funeral program I was really feeling very self-concious at how many times, "1LT Jonathan E. Kenworthy, Grandson" appeared on it. I'll be perectly honest here, I felt like the fact that I had come from Iraq was simply over-publicized, and I felt embarassed that such a big deal was made about my arrival. My cousins and my brother, as well as everyone else that traveled to be in attendence were there as well and if I had it to do over again, I dont think I'd wear my Class A's, because it only added to the spector and detracted I felt from the real reason we were there, to honor my granddad.

I will say that I thought the send-off for my grandpa Earl really was fitting. He had former fire-fighters, neighbors, home-teachers, family friends and even a childhood friend come from parts unknown to pay tribute to his humble life. Wait, it gets better from here, I promise.

I got up to give the beginnings of the eulogy. Long since somewhere over the Atlantic I realized how woefully inadequate my efforts where going to be. So instead of trying to give the perfect rendition of his life story befitting the entire strata of his existence, I decided instead to focus on the man I knew.

I am not going to regurgetate the exact words I'd used, but I want at this point to capture what I really felt about him, now five years later. First of all, my grandpa was kind. He was so unbelievably kind. He was around 6'2" and had sideburns and dark hair, normally in a flat-top 1960's style the most of his life. He had a salt and pepper mustache and was thin, but wiry. My grandpa was contemplative, intelligent, if not under-educated by worldly standards, he was a giant when it came to loving a family, providing for them and doing exactly what the Lord expected a man to do. Even now as I begin to write, my eyes are filled with tears at how much I really miss him. I loved him so very much.

My grandpa was soft-spoken but insightful. He would have discussions with you, and never criticize your thoughts, but instead add his own life experience and validate whatever good parts you were covering. I dont know that I ever once heard him say something bad about someone, though he was passionate about responsibilities and duty. My grandpa had a cough for over forty years and carried a little plastic spitoon throughout the house and in all his vehicles to catch his frequent boughts of coughing that would result from his years of smoking and construction work. I remember distinctly as a child staying at their home in South Jordan, hearing him cough from the opposite end of the very large house (which he built with his own hands) and thinking he was going to die and wondering how he could possibly breathe.

My grandpa was the father of two. One William Earl Kenworthy Jr. and Dianne Kenworthy. He was a merchant marine during World War II and inspired my father to join the Navy and if you want to know the truth was a huge factor in my election to join the Armed Forces as well. My grandpa loved to garden, had fruit trees, beehives, and was industrius and self-sufficient. I think one of the things that touched me most about his funeral, were the number of people who came up to the pulpit, to describe his willingness to help ANYONE at ANYTIME with whatever they needed. Hanging a door, stripping paint, whatever skills he possessed my grandpa was never ever selfish with.

As I alluded to earlier, my grandpa did not possess a degree. In fact, he dropped out of high school, one semester before graduation, to join the war effort and do his part. He never returned for his diploma, but instead learned to become a carpenter. He attended a vocational school to do so and even opened his own contracting business. I once asked my dad why grandpa still didnt own his own business, to which my dad replied he couldnt compete, because he was a perfectionist. Where good-enough turns profit and perfect leaves your bid too high, grandpa couldnt make much of a go of it. However, from the time my own dad could swing a hammer, my granddad would take him to jobsites, and promise him around $2 a day to work toward his first vehicle. I'll let my dad tell that story someday, however the due-out is really that he taught my father the value of work, which I feel I have gleaned from him as a result.

I said earlier my grandfather was kind beyond comparison. He was not however an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. He was ordained an Elder, but sometime when my dad was of scouting age, was offended by a well-meaning bishop, over the issue of his smoking and that of being a scout master simultaneously. I will not attempt to validate either position here, but I believe it drove a wedge between my grandparents, their children, and most of the grandchildren as a result. I believe I have always kept that in mind during my short tenure as any particular calling or officer in the local ward. Realizing that your actions as an eclesiastical leader affect generations is the toughest line to walk while still upholding the Lord's expectations.

My grandfather loved the outdoors. He loved elk hunting, fishing, camping and most of all sharing those experiences with his sons, grandsons and anyone else who'd come along. He was a good shot and I will always picture him *choked-up* wearing camo-orange wearing a straight brimmed orange hat, with a little license carrier affixed to the side of the hat. It is my firm belief that when I meet him again, he just might be dressed exactly so, as that's the grandpa I will always remember.

I loved him so dearly. He wasn't just my grandpa, he was a fill-in father for my cousins, he was a husband of one, he was a hard worker, and he was a true example of how a man should love his family.

As I write these things today I am touched. I am anxious to see him again. I know he would be proud of our efforts in our home and with our families. I imagine he would have such a tremendous outpouring of sage advice for us if he were able to do so from beyond this sphere.

I think one of the things I will be most impressed by, is when I went to bless my son Josh. My father could not stand in the circle, and we had just assumed my grandfather would not either. In fact, we had let on tha the wasn't expected to. However, the morning of the blessing, when the Elders were called forward, he stood up and said, "I still hold the Priesthood, and it's my right to help bless my grandson". I almost trembled at his straightforward insistance, and opened a space in the circle. It was at that moment I realized that he absolutely believed in the Gospel of our Savior, but due to the challenges of life, hurt feelings and that of apathy growing into distance, he hadn't ever fully returned. I will always remember his resolute insistance and am honored to know that he felt so strongly that it has strengthened my own testimony as a result.

I miss my grandpa today. It's over-cast outside. It's been drizzling most of the day. I've had to work and make myself focus. As I sit here on the couch and type this today to share it with you, it reminds me of why we are all really here. It reminds me of his kindness. It reminds me of those eternal promises that we all will be resurrected regardless of our choices. That is Christ's promise. That through his own resurrection we will all enjoy that same reward at a minimum. I am not really concerned at this point as to my granddad's station once he is called forth. I believe that all will be known, and that he will, just as we all will, account for his stewarship while here on the Earth. My great hope is that as Stacey and I prepare to return to the Temple together, we can seal my grandma and grandpa by proxy. I believe that my grandfather's long-dormant testimony will be renewed and that he even now waits for those blessings which he did not take advantage of while here in the flesh.

I love my grandpa. I love his example to me, my father, my son. I love the lessons I learned at his hand. I love his shining example of service to others. To his kindness to strangers. I miss him today, but I am fully confident we will see each other again. I think my only hope is now that we again have the opportunity to bait a hook, or enjoy a meadow as the first rays of the sun light the trees. I love him and look forward to that day again in thanks and humble appreciation for the efforts of our Savior.

I hope you have a wonderful day and that, if your grandfather is alive today, you call him just because and make an appointment at nearest opportunity to spend as much time as you can with him.

Have a great day and we'll see you when the mood hits again.

Jon