Last Saturday morning, we got a call from David's mother that his (maternal) grandfather had passed away at age 96. His health had been slowly fading recently, and so, while it didn't come as a total surprise, we were very sad to hear the news. We had no idea how we could get to Mississippi for the funeral the week of Thanksgiving - we figured the highways would be jammed and all flights would be full. But David and I scrambled and were able to get flights booked on Delta (thankfully).
So Monday morning around 7:15am we flew out. Had an uneventful flight - changed planes in Atlanta and made it to David's hometown (Jackson, Mississippi) by mid-morning. For most of the day on Monday, we spent our time hanging out at Grandpa's condo with David's sister Lindsay, her husband Ben, and our nephews Ryder and Ace (along with David's parents of course). We got to spend lots of time with Ryder and Ace, which is great since we hardly ever got to see them. Ace fell asleep on his Aunt Lisa's shoulder...
While Ryder showed us his football skills...
The next day, we got ready for the funeral...
The service was really, really good. There were a lot of stories about what a wonderful man of God Grandpa Mcrae was, as well as some stories about his military background. Grandpa was a Army tank gunner under the command of General George Patton in WWII. I have mentioned before that one of the things that David and I are proudest of is that all four of our grandfathers (both of his and both of mine) served our country in World War II. At my grandfather's funeral in 2004, the minister quoted a passage from The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw. The same book, and generation, were mentioned at Grandpa's funeral yesterday morning. As I watched the flag being folded from Grandpa's casket and presented to the family, I am reminded of how much we owe to this generation that made it possible for us to have the freedom we enjoy today. So I thought I'd share this passage:
In the spring of 1984, I went to the northwest of France, to Normandy, to prepare an NBC documentary on the fortieth anniversary of D-Day, the massive and daring Allied invasion of Europe that marked the beginning of the end of Adolf Hitler's Third Reich. There, I underwent a life-changing experience. As I walked the beaches with the American veterans who had returned for this anniversary, men in their sixties and seventies, and listened to their stories, I was deeply moved and profoundly grateful for all they had done. Ten years later, I returned to Normandy for the fiftieth anniversary of the invasion, and by then I had come to understand what this generation of Americans meant to history. It is, I believe, the greatest generation any society has ever produced.
At a time in their lives when their days and nights should have been filled with innocent adventure, love, and the lessons of the workaday world, they were fighting in the most primitive conditions possible across the bloodied landscape of France, Belgium, Italy, Austria, and the coral islands of the Pacific. They answered the call to save the world from the two most powerful and ruthless military machines ever assembled, instruments of conquest in the hands of fascist maniacs. They faced great odds and a late start, but they did not protest. They succeeded on every front. They won the war; they saved the world.
-Tom Brokaw, The Greatest Generation
As much as we wish it had been under different circumstances, it was nice to have a couple of days in Mississippi and meet some of David's extended family that I had never met. After the funeral, most of the family went back to Grandpa's condo for lunch. Here are some pictures from that time together:
While we were there, I taught some of the kids how to take pictures with my camera. They got one of David (with his eyes closed) and another of my father-in-law, Steve...
It was nice to be part of the celebration of life for such an impressive man. The night before Grandpa Mcrae died, he went to bed singing Amazing Grace. He was ready to go home to his Lord. How awesome is that?
We caught a flight yesterday evening and got back to Greensboro late last night. Today, the sky in Greensboro was yet another reminder for us of God and His awesomeness:
I have to end by posting Grandpa's obituary, plus a picture David and I had taken with him a couple of years ago when we were dating:
Fred C. McRae of Brandon, Mississippi died on Saturday, November 20, 2010 at his home, just over a month past his 96th birthday. Mr. McRae was born in Bassfield, Mississippi to Conrad and Effie McRae. Mr. McRae was a veteran of World War II, having served as an Army tank gunner in Europe in the 13th Armored, Black Cat Division, 45th Battalion under the command of General George Patton. Following the War, he settled in Brandon where he initially owned and operated a cotton gin and later a lumber mill. He retired from the U.S. Postal Service.
Mr. McRae was a long time member of the First Baptist Church in Brandon, where he served in a number of capacities, including Chairman of the Deacons and Sunday School Director. He and his wife, Mary, were also Charter members of Brandon Baptist Church.
Mr. McRae was a talented golfer and shot an 82 on a Highlands, North Carolina mountain course at age 85.
He was preceded in death by his wife of 68 years, Mary Robinson McRae, a brother, John McRae and sister, Margaret McRae.
He is survived by his children, Fred C. McRae, Jr. and his wife, Mary of Charleston, South Carolina and Margaret McRae Stubblefield and husband Steve of Flowood, Mississippi; four grandchildren and their spouses and five great grandchildren; sisters Louise Kearse, Marjorie Roseborough and husband Bob, Barbara Hopper and husband Lewis, and brother Richard McRae and wife Mary Ann and numerous nieces and nephews.
Funeral services will be at Baldwin-Lee Funeral Home in Pearl, Mississippi on Tuesday, November 23, 2010 at 11:00 AM preceded by visitation at 10:00 at the funeral home.
We will miss you, Grandpa!
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