Grandpa’s Eulogy
Given that Grandpa was born on the fourth of July and died the night of New Year’s Eve, you’d think he would’ve had an explosive personality, but the opposite was true. He was the quiet presence that sat by my Grandma’s side for years.
On one visit, my grandma asked me, “Elise, why aren’t you married yet?” Since I was an old maid by BYU standards, I had a few comebacks ready. “I haven’t found anyone like Grandpa yet,” I replied. Grandma’s quick reply was, “Oh, you’re not going to find anyone as good as him.” But, Grandpa was my standard.
He showed me what it meant for a husband to care for his wife in sickness and health as well as lifting the people around him. He was a devout temple worker, and I always tried to get in on his sessions. Even after years confined to bed–something that would’ve driven me mad—he rarely complained, before that, he’d walk the halls and minister to the residents there. What I know about my grandpa is that he loved–he loved the Lord, his family, and his neighbor.
During my years at BYU, I was surprised to hear Grandpa’s name mentioned in a devotional. Tom Holmoe spoke about “Verl Rasband,” and my ears perked up–more than these Rasband ears already do. I wasn’t surprised by the impact Grandpa had on him. He said:
It will be a long time before I forget the special kindness expressed by my friend Verl Rasband. Verl learns the first names of the children in our ward and goes out of his way to greet and talk with them regularly. At first the children are surprised that an older man would even know their name. But his warm greeting makes them feel good. As a result of his kind heart and sweet spirit, all my children respect, admire, and love Brother Rasband. From his fine example my children now go out of their way to greet Verl before he can find them. His love is contagious.
There were a few summers during college when I lived with my grandparents, as many of my cousins did. At first it was to save money, but during my sophomore year I moved back before the semester ended because I needed a place where I felt loved, seen, and safe. That place was my grandparents’ house.
My last visit with Grandpa was very tender, and I was so grateful I was able to see him shortly before he passed. When my dad and I sat at his bedside, my dad woke him and said, “Do you know who this is?” Grandpa turned toward me, blinked a few times, and said, “That’s my LisseyLou.” That nickname has never felt sweeter than it did at that moment. The next thing he asked me was where my kids were. I told him that I wanted to enjoy him without having to corral them, and then I showed him a 2026 calendar I’d made with all pictures of all my siblings and their kids. He recognized every face and smiled at the sillier pictures. When I made the calendar, I had no idea he wouldn’t get to use it, but I was grateful that he could see our family before he left.
He asked me about my husband and his deployment, about Georgia, and about what my kids are up to. That was Grandpa. He rarely dominated a conversation. Instead, listened and asked questions, always wanting to learn more about the people he loved.
My fondest memories of Grandpa and Grandma are camping by rivers and ponds, barbecues on the back patio with fried chicken and Grandma’s potato salad and picking fruit from his backyard. As I got older, we bonded over British comedies, classic movies, MASH and even BYU football—whether I was watching or not.
My grandpa used to call me every week, and from what I understand, he did the same with a lot of my cousins and siblings, I knew that he was not himself when those phone calls slowed and eventually stopped. For a while I would try to reciprocate those phone calls, but it became more challenging for him to answer and even more challenging for him to hear me, especially with the noise that my kids tend to fill the room with.
My grandpa was born on the fourth of July and left us on New Year’s night because his life deserved to be celebrated with fireworks. He loved without expectation, cared deeply for others, and made everyone feel special. I will miss you grandpa, but I know you will be doing what you can for me and this family from the other side–because that’s your style. I hope we can follow his life-long example and admonition of the Lord to love God and our fellow men.
The Funeral
I don’t know how angels minister to us, but I know that they do. My dad, mom and I drove to Provo an hour before the viewing. I helped set up the pictures then went to set my stuff down in the viewing room. I dropped my stuff to a chair, about to turn and leave to go help some more, but though I was physically alone in that room, I felt someone. I walked up to my grandpa’s casket and touched his cold, hard arm. His body looked and felt vacant, but I felt him near me, just to my left, watching as my eyes welled with tears. I whispered, “I love you grandpa. I’ll miss you. And I felt warmth come over me, like he was giving me a hug. It was amazing to me how he kept a positive attitude to the very end. Talk about enduring well. I will miss our chats. The “is there anyone there of any importance?” Or the loving nicknames of “bean pole” (that one was never directed at me, but many of my sisters and my daughter), Lissey Lou, doll, etc. I had my own nicknames for him: Gramps, ol’ man, pops, and when I had kids of my own, Great Papa. He is one of my favorite people. I told my dad last night, that though I will miss him, I feel like he will be able to minister to us much more easily on the other side of the veil without his body to slow him down, and for that I am grateful.
The funeral was tearful, but also full of laughter. We had so many memories that brought smiles to our faces and we were all relieved he’d no longer suffer. The joy also came from finally seeing some of my cousins that I hadn’t seen since my grandma’s funeral or even longer. Family is such an amazing thing. I can go so long without seeing these people, but when I do, the love for each other is palpable. It is so comforting to have that bond. I am so grateful for the promise of an eternal family. I look forward to the day when I get to see my darling Grandpas and grandmas and sweet little Thomas. It will be such a sweet, joyous reunion.