This last weekend we had the opportunity to go to Oregon for Dan’s grandpa’s funeral. Not really the reason we wanted to go on a trip, but it was nice to see family. We made the journey with 6 of Dan’s siblings, so needless to say the car was packed, and we all got real comfortable with each other. It was a long drive, but I’ll admit, it was pretty fun. There are some really podunky towns on the way, which made potty breaks really fun. We set a new record. We got pulled over 3 times and got off without a ticket every time. We had some sweet talkers with us. Here are just a couple pics from the journey.
Dan practically sliced his finger off on a Mexican Coke. He was trying to open the bottle with the seat belt because we obviously didn’t have a bottle opener. The whole top popped off and seriously gashed the whole top of his finger. We couldn’t get it to stop bleeding for about 7 hours. We also didn’t have any bandages in the car so we got real creative and wrapped a pad around it until we got to the wonderful town, or should I say gas station of Denio. We bought a tiny first aide kit, and the gas station owner gave us what she called “a midget rubber” Needless to say, that was the joke of the trip. He looks pretty happy but he was in a lot of pain. And now I am handing the computer over to Dan.
My Grandpa, Rolen William Rosecrans lived in Gold Hill, Oregon on the same street his entire life. He passed from this life Thursday, May 12, 2011, at his home. He spent the early years of his life helping his mother struggle through the great depression. He attended Gold Hill High School, where he met the love of his life, Edro June Davis. They were married on July 13, 1945, when he was home on leave from World War II.
The morning of his funeral Carlie and I went jogging with my sister. On our way back to the hotel we had to cross a bridge strewn with American flags. I stopped and asked the man putting up the flags why he was putting them up, and he told me that a local veteran had died and they wanted to honor his sacrifice. That veteran was my Grandpa. 
I have always been proud of him and the sacrifice he made during that time, and the countless others that he has since made on behalf me and my family. The last time I saw him I was struggling with a major decision in my life. I felt lost and worried, and I asked him for a blessing. In that blessing he told me that the Lord had a path for me and that everything would work out as long as I trusted in Him. I have heard that many times before, but when it came from him I really knew that it would happen. He had the ability to connect with people on a personal level. He was able to understand their struggles and trials and really be there for them. I think this attitude stems from his love of family. He first met my Grandma Red when he was in seventh grade. I recently learned of a school chair that was found in Patrick Elementary school in Gold Hill only a few years ago. Carved into that chair some 70 years ago are the words, “Rolen loves Edro.” He spent his life loving just one person, he took care of her, and in the final years of her life he stayed by her side and nursed her the best that he could. He protected her, served her, and unconditionally loved her. This adoration has helped me to try and do the same for my wife. His example has helped me see why he worked so hard for the ones he loved. He wanted to make sure they understood that he would sacrifice anything for them. 
There is so much in my life that I owe to his example. He was strong, brave, humble and honest. His was a life that should be honored and revered for the way he lived. He never complained, he never gave up, and whatever he was asked to do, he did it. He went through life believing that no matter what you do, if you work hard and are honest then you can achieve anything. One summer when I was in high school, I went to Oregon for a few weeks. While there Grandpa told me we needed to go take care of the cemetery because a large tree was beginning to damage some graves there. After we got the tree down he began to chop it into pieces and we were to load them into the bed of his truck. After an hour of hauling I was exhausted. I had helped with most of the regular sized branches, but there were some that I thought needed two people to carry. When he was done, I was standing waiting to carry them with him and he just quietly grabbed them and carried them over to the bed of the truck. He did not boast in his strength, he just did it. I was amazed that a man his age could carry so much. I did not think it was possible. Even in his old age he was the strongest man I have ever met. He was buried in the spot where that tree once stood. 
*Dan’s work sent the most beautiful flower arrangment. It was so sweet.
On Thursday May 12, he was finally able to be with Grandma again. He knew that his time had finally come and that he no longer had to fight. He no longer had to worry about the farm, or worry about those around him, he can now rest. His funeral ended with the playing of Taps by the US Navy and my family was presented with a flag in his honor. For our family his was an ending of an era, we will miss you Grandpa, we love you.
