Grandpa

My Grandpa became sick in October. He got better, got worse, but then always seemed to get a little better again. Until March. March Grandpa came home, where he wanted to be all along, on Hospice. I have not really talked about it here, mainly because I didn't know what to say. I also hoped deep down that we had much longer than six months with him.

 

The past few weeks seem a little blurry. Blurry from busy days and un-planable nights. Blurry from tears. Blurry from memories stirred up from boxes of old pictures and stories told around my grandparents front room.

 

When life feels a little blurry, I often feel the tingle in my fingers and heart to write. My Grandma used to read out loud (multiple times I might add) what I wrote here to my Grandpa; he always told me I needed to write a book. So it feels very fitting to write about him. My sweet, sweet Grandpa.

 

Before I tell you about my Grandpa, I feel compelled to write out some thank you's. I have learned throughout my Grandma’s passing and now my Grandpa’s, that the people God gives us on this journey are there for a reason. They are put along our path to help us or be helped by us. Each are special, and the old saying that “it takes a village”...is true.

 

I would first like to thank Hospice and the nurses that cared for my Grandpa. Hospice nurses are angels walking among us and they have made these last few weeks so much easier with their love and care. I also hope that my sister-in-law DeeDee knows how appreciative the rest of my family is. We know she was always working in the background to make sure Grandpa had the best care.

 

I would like to thank my Grandpa’s sweet friend Lilly. Her friendship, care, love and attentiveness not just in the last few weeks, but the last few years, eased the burden of worry and loneliness from Grandpa and our family.

 

Before I get to my final big thank you, I want to make note that there really would be too many people to personally mention here. Kim, my brothers (I have learned that men show love through mowed lawns and daily visits), Douglas (for everything, always), my sisters-in-law, the grandparents that swooped in to watch Grandpa’s eight great grandchildren at a moments notice, friends that prayed, family that sent food. It took all of you. You have been a blessing to us.

 

And finally, I would personally like to thank my Dad. I hope that my Dad knows that there is no better care taker in the world (I think he missed his calling). I hope he knows that everyone who has ever come across him and his parents could feel the love they radiated towards each other. My Dad brought Grandpa so much comfort in these last few years, months, weeks and days…I hope he knows that that feeling of comfort he brought him wasn’t new. All my life I have gotten to witness the best example of love and devotion between parent and child–Grandpa felt comforted by him, always.

 

I wasn’t going to write all of those thank you's, but then I thought about my Grandpa. I can hear him saying “well thank ya, thank ya, thank ya” and holding each of these people's hands with one of his while he pats it with his other. I picture that perfect combo of laugh and smile he had. He was the epitome of a selfless man. He would have done anything for anyone, and in the last six months could be found frustrated because we were all taking care of him instead of him caring for us. I tried to explain to him that it was our turn. That we could never repay him for all that he had done for us.

 

When I think of all the blessings in my life and trace them back to their origin, so many of them all start with my grandparents. I know I am writing about my Grandpa, but I find it hard to separate the two.

 

If my grandparents hadn’t loved my brothers and I like they did, I wouldn’t love like I do. If they hadn’t had such an unwavering lived-out faith, I am scared to think where my own faith life would be. If they hadn’t shown me how to be a friend and put others first, the relationships that bring me the most joy in my life would not be what they are today. Their legacy lives on through goodbye hugs and kisses, conversations of heaven and all its glory, favorite stories told around the table, laughter and lots of “love ya’s”.

 

My Grandpa impacted many people's lives, yet he probably didn't realize it. I know he taught the boys and I many life lessons. He taught us what it meant to have a good work ethic. His was unmatched; I don’t think the man could just sit and relax. Growing up I took note that my grandparents' yard was perfect, and my Grandma’s long list of projects and to-do’s were done. My Grandpa proudly worked very hard for over 20 years at both McQuay–Norris in Casey, IL and Petty’s in Effingham, IL. Actually when I picture him from my childhood, he has a white Petty’s button down shirt on, sleeves rolled to show tan, working man arms. The boys and I can still name what was in his shirt pocket. He probably had just gotten home from a long day of work, but would always have time for us. In the last couple of years you could find him enjoying his red chair with Andy Griffith or a Western on, but he would have given anything to be outside. He was disciplined, dedicated and did it all never expecting praise. He did it all with a heart of goodwill.

 

He taught us how to love and that love grows stronger with every passing year. My Grandpa loved my Grandma with an unselfish, unending, adoring kind of love. He claimed that they had two fights their entire marriage (61 blissful years!) and that he never told her no (take note Douglas). When she was sick, I watched him kiss her good-morning and good-night along with many just-because kisses in between. I always loved it when there weren't enough chairs at a party, and he would tell her that she could sit on his lap. Grandpa was a good teammate in marriage; he brought out the best in her,and after Grandma passed away I heard him tell many people that she was his angel and he meant it. Not everyone is blessed to be loved like that…but I know it is worth it. Worth it to work at love and to let it grow stronger year after year.

 

My Grandpa taught us what it meant to be a committed, loyal, fun friend. He always told me that Bill Roan was his best friend. I remember being able to tell who was on the phone depending on what kind of laugh came after my Grandpa's long “Helll-oo". If it was Bill, we knew we wouldn’t see Grandpa for a while; the long, coiled phone cord would follow him to the other room. My Grandma even joked that somedays Grandpa talked to Bill more than he did her. Bill might have been Grandpa’s best friend, but the list of friends could go on forever. Work buddies, church buddies, food pantry buddies, motorcycle riding buddies...my Grandpa never met a stranger, and people were charmed by him the second they met him. Grandpa was from Hidalgo, God’s country, and I have come to realize that they don’t make men anywhere else like they do in Hidalgo. They are loyal for a lifetime, friendly to fault and have the biggest hearts around.

 

My Grandpa taught us or rather showed us what a life rooted in faith looked like. The “amen” from the left back pew of the white Baptist church of my childhood, the worn bible beside his red chair–those are the tangible images that come to mind that represent my Grandpa’s faith, but it was how he carried himself and how he cared for others, how he trusted God’s timing, how he knew without a doubt that a lifetime in Glory was waiting for him–that is the kind of lived-out faith and love for God I want to have.

 

Everyone believes theirs is the best, but my Grandpa truly was the best father, grandfather, husband and friend. Words cannot express how thankful I am, my brothers are, my dad is for every opportunity we had to make so many cherished memories with him.

 

He let me do his hair, he took us on lawn mower wagon rides, he bragged to everyone that I painted his pony barn. He grilled us pork burgers, he always had room for dessert, he cheered us on at ball games. He gave the best, squeezing hugs, he gifted our babies their Gigi bears, he called my daughter “Ashley” because according to him I should still be that little.

 

And he told us all that we were his favorite. Well...I mean he told me this and told me not to tell...but I’m also pretty sure he told others. There will never be enough hugs, kisses and “love ya’s” There is never enough time, but what he instilled in us will carry on for generations to come.

 

We were and are so blessed.

 

Love ya, Grandpa