It was 2002 and I was on the phone with my grandfather who would pass away within a few hours.  The trees were just starting to bud.  You could smell Spring in the air even though it was hard to see it in the skeleton like trees.  My grandfather Bentley was easily the most charismatic of my grandparents.  His constant smile was infectious.  Not that he wasn’t a hard man as well.  I remember shaking his hand.  He had such a huge and powerful grip it made me feel both two inches tall and six foot three at the same time.  I felt small but at the same time I knew the Bentley grip was genetic.  I would be squashing my grandkids one day.

Here I was, age twenty two, listening through a cell phone to scratchy voice that barely resembled the booming voice I used to hear echoing through his house in Charlotte North Carolina.  

“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked even though I knew the answer.  How do you small talk someone on their death bed?

“Oh, I’ve been better,” he replied.  He was trying to joke with me. I couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s what I hear.”

“How are you?” he asked back.  I think he really wanted to know.

“Oh, I’m doing alright,”  and then I started into talking about the praise band I was leading at the time and school, made short mention of whatever girl I liked at the time.  It all seemed kind of trivial at the time, but this would be the last update he would receive on this plane. 

“You play music really well,” he said. 

“You think so?” I asked.  I still don’t think I’m that great.

He coughed a little, “Don’t give up on your music.”

“I won’t.”

Then there was a long silence…

“I love you,” he scratched.

“I love you too,”  it was the first and last time we ever said that to each other.

“This is H.T. Bentley the 2nd signing off,” I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny or not, but it was perfect way for him to say goodbye.  It was a summation of his personality.

“I’ll see you later,” I said.  I think we both knew this wasn’t the end.  There will plenty of time in heaven for us to play guitar together one day.  I cried and smiled the rest of the day.

So this story is sad, I know.  But it leads into a bigger story.  I was talking with my father about what Grandpa had said to me over the phone.  Apparently I got the last coherent conversation from him before he died.  The fact that it was over the phone made him put forth a little extra effort.  When I told my father about his desire to have me continue my music my dad stopped what he was doing.  He was confused.  My father wanted to be an artist when he was young and my grandfather had discouraged him making it very clear that there was no money in art.  My father put aside his dreams and went into the sciences and worked for the air force until he retired.

My grandfather realized something when he was near the end.  Money is secondary to the people that love you and the things you have accomplished.  I think my father realized this too.  It was a great lesson for the three eldest Bentley’s.  If you follow your passion and are willing to lose for the greater good, your rewards will always be much greater than if you take the straight and narrow path.  I’m not sure what my grandfather’s passion was.  I know he loved trains.  I know he loved his dog, Missy.  He always had a smile about him. 

Grandpa was just hours from losing all the physical things in his life and he realized he couldn’t take them with him.  All he could do is leave behind a lesson.  That lesson in short is this…

You have to be willing to lose in order to win.