Tuscaloosa, Alabama; circa 1997
The heat and humidity of the balmy summer night was almost suffocating, but it didn't stop us from partaking in Independence Day festivities. Your old green pick up truck is parked in the driveway, the folded down tailgate providing a prime viewing spot for the action. We all sit on the edge of it, feet swinging above the ground beneath us. Each of the dads takes turns setting up the rocket in the old coke bottle at the end of the driveway, he lights the fuse and sprints away, turning back just in time to watch the fireworks explode with an array of colors in the night sky. We all grab sparklers and take turns writing our names in the air, the trails from the sparks lingering on the front of our eyes in an illusion of what used to be. The cousins; linked by maternal blood and bonded as youngsters during adventures in the Tuscaloosa house. So many adventures together. Watching Jurassic Park in the basement and being scared out of our minds, all six of us huddled under one blanket on one couch. Drawing treasure maps through our own versions of Jurassic Park, carefully marking where the T-Rex and velociraptors reside in order to avoid them, crumpling up the paper over and over again and then burning the edges to make it look authentic. Following the hobbit trail to the edge of the woods, only to be too intimidated for further investigation. Learning to swim in the deep end of the pool together, jumping off the diving board and scrambling to the surface. Digging up Indian coins every single summer. Riding bikes and roller blading in the cul-de-sac. Waiting at home with Nana while you were at work, and running to jump into your big strong arms when you walked in the door. The way you always called us all your scalliwags. Always rooting for the Crimson Tide. These are the memories I cherish most deeply, and the ones I will always remember. The ones I'll tell my children about when they ask about the man they'll be named after. It was painful to watch your strength leave as your body betrayed you. But you never complained, you always amazed me with your drive to not let it take away your outlook on life. Your sense of humor never left; we would be sitting at the table eating supper with everyone and you would insert some off the wall comment that would send everyone into hysterics, and Nana would be jokingly appalled. Your cunning little smile when you would say something to make us grand-kids laugh, even if it meant making Nana mad. The only time you had relief was in sleep, and even that became a struggle. I find comfort in the fact that you are finally at peace from this disease, you can walk and run and jump and throw the football again. You're probably up there now talking about football with Uncle Troy. Telling Jesus about the time you brought your sawed-off shotgun to work to get rid of the pigeons that were pooping on your car. How you got your four front teeth knocked out by a baseball as a kid. How you and Uncle Dudney bought that nice car from the doctor in town, only to take it through fields and the woods and completely wreck it. All the mischievous things you used to do for the sake of making someone smile. I'm gonna miss it so much, but I know that it was your hour to leave us.
Rest in Peace, Granderson Wilson Harris
3/9/36-2/5/13
Isaiah 57:1
"The righteous perish, and no one ponders it
in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the
righteous are taken away to be spared from evil."
