On January 23, 2024 my last living grandparent passed away.
Grandpa Murphy had a fascinating life. His father passed away when he was 8 so my grandpa and his brother were raised in Ogden, Utah during the Great Depression by a widow and by both grandfathers, a range-riding cowboy, and a Civil War army veteran/scout for the Central Pacific Railroad.
After high school my Grandpa entered the U. S. Army to fight in World War II. He was trained in the use of mortars and bazookas. Arriving in the Philippines, a rifle was shoved in his hands: “Murphy, we don’t need mortar men! Here’s your rifle!” He learned to use it the hard way. As part of the 149th Regiment of the 38th Infantry Division, he participated in some of the most horrific fighting in the Philippines as he and his fellow soldiers fought their way through the dense rainforest jungles and highlands of Luzon. My dad never heard any of Grandpa's war stories growing up. In fact grandpa never shared any until the last few years of his life. I think the not knowing what happened to grandpa made my dad and my uncles all historians specializing in WWII history, because the wanted to gain an understanding of their dad.
After the war my grandpa took advantage of the GI Bill and went into pharmacy. He was a workaholic who loved his job and worked for 63 years! He retired at the age of 89. He was very health conscience. and ate a very strict diet. He would always walk for 45 minutes a day up until he passed and was a familiar sight in the neighborhood. We thought for sure he was going to live to see 100.
Grandpa met and married my Grandma Marilyn Tanner in 1952. An unlikely couple; my grandma coming from a born and bred Mormon pioneer stock, well educated BYU professor, democrat family. To my grandpa being an Episcopalian, came to Utah to work on the railways/entrepreneurs on 25th street in Ogden, republican family. Couldn't have come from more different backgrounds, but they made it successfully work and raised 4 sons in Layton, Utah.
Growing up we faithfully went over to Grandma and Grandpa's house every Sunday. While the grownups talked us kids entertained ourselves by memorizing the state and world maps, playing games with the lazy Susan, and electrocuting ourselves (it was a slight buzz) with the light switch downstairs. When the weather was nice we would pick raspberries and sit on the porch swing. After Grandma died (when I was 16) Grandpa started to come to our house every Sunday. He would give us a hug and call us his honey girl.
Grandpa at his house on Gentile Street.
After my Grandma passed away Grandpa picked up poetry and for my wedding Grandpa wrote me a poem. His poetry writing exploded and he since published 4 poetry books.
Flowers For a Bride
From the shelter of life’s harbor
The crest of an unfolding future appears
As though in the spring's belated arrival
The unburnished earth bears forth its promise
The burst of flowers heralds life’s call
We anxiously await this defining moment
To adorn a bride with a bouquet of colors
To complement the beautiful with beauty
And bid her departure with feelings anew
As a life once gave life
In our own good season
One of the last pictures I have with my Grandpa. Fathers Day 2020
It's hard losing all your grandparents. Grandparents are a big piece of your childhood, and even as an adult and going home every summer to visit, it will be strange having him not there to visit. I'm happy that one of the last visits we had that Carson got to play him his cello and he read to me one of the last poems he wrote. We'll miss you Grandpa!
