Wish You Were Here
Today was my Grandpa’s heavenly birthday. I still feel so connected to him. Without a doubt in my mind, he is with me, always. Dare I say, I’ve even felt like I’ve grown closer to him after his death.
This man’s smirk sent ripples of warm fuzzies and pride through your soul. He had a way of communicating solely by the way he would shape his eyes or the way he tilted his head. When I had my children, some of my fondest memories were the afternoons I would spend visiting him and my Grandma. Every so often, I’d strike a chord of enthusiasm with my Grandpa on a topic, and he would launch into anecdotes of all kinds while we sat at his dining room table. This was my favorite version of him. If he talked for more than 10 minutes or so, Grandma would likely retreat into the tv room with my kids, clearly over the topic herself. :) He had wisdom and stories for every occasion. When my marriage began to struggle, he told of the responsibilities he took in his marriage. The last meal out I had with him for my birthday, he described to us about a time as a child when he and his friend spent hours in a dirt floor barn digging tunnels for his matchbox cars to drive through. When I brought over my new book of vintage pin-up posters, he launched into all sorts of history of scantily clad painted ladies (they would be painted because then they were art and not “photographed p*rn”). And when he would tell the stories of his shenanigans with my Grandma before kids, his joyfulness could have lit up the darkest night. He was a magnetic story teller. One of my most treasured videos I ever recorded was one where I had pressed record on my camera without him noticing, while he recounted the time he was hit by a train and knocked unconscious, laughing out loud at himself as he set the scene.
And that was him. Magnetic. A quiet force. Proud and humble. Opinionated and still peaceful. And so so proud of his family. If I imagine his hugs, I can still to this day feel the sensation of how it feels.
After his death, I took a chance and reached out to a Medium. Controversial, likely to most, but what did I have to lose? The very first thing she began to speak of was my Grandpa. Her whole demeanor and voice inflections changed. She began to cry, even she was enamored by my Grandpa’s spirit. Through a choked up voice she explained, “this is so so cool, I am able to see your Grandpa through your eyes, and see how your Grandpa sees you through his eyes". She could barely finish the sentence as her own tears swallowed her. I knew exactly what she was seeing and feeling.
He was a special human. I had been so disappointed that the man I loved didn’t get the privilege to spend time with my Grandpa. Everyone should have known him. There isn’t a day that passes, especially as I traverse rocky terrain of my days, that I don’t think of him and wish he was here to hug me and counsel me. And give me “that look”, where he tilts his head, drops his chin ever so slightly and softly grins his love and pride over me.
So tonight, on a particularly emotional night, the night before Easter, his would-be birthday, I wanted to reread and share the eulogy I wrote for him. (Edit: I will go to my grave with regret that I did not make mention of my middle child in his dedication as I did with my other two, but there is a part of me that finds solace in the understanding that there was a special place in his heart for his “Pretty” that stood higher than any mention of the two of them together could ever have - and it needs no explanation.)
Love you forever, G-Pa. Thank you for teaching me more wisdom and virtue than my words could ever give credit for.
Three minutes. Three minutes to sum up the love that grew for 86 years. He was kind and he was gentle. He was firm but didn’t lack sarcasm. He was so so proud of his family and we will miss that wordless grin he’d give you when his eyes were telling you just how much pride and love you fill him with. We will miss his smile, we will miss hearing him call us by our nicknames and we will miss listening to him struggle through telling his own story by laughing through the punch line. There was no doubt the amount of love and light he brought to this earth and to the many, many lives he touched. I was asking my city’s neighborhood page for their discarded newspapers to collect copies of Grandpa’s obituary. Even a fellow resident, a perfect stranger, while giving her condolences, understood the measure of his character adding, “It must be somebody very special if you are looking for that many copies of the obituary.” We can all agree, he truly was.
Grandpa was more than just the patriarch of our family. To me, he was also my faithful home-project handyman and my favorite soothing voice for an afternoon of coffee and story-telling. He was also a guidance counselor to me, helping me to navigate some really tough life choices. He was always eager for the opportunity to teach. And there was no greater lesson for us all to have learned from him than how to lead by example. 1st John Chapter 3 verse 18 says, “My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.” This was our Grandpa, your father and our friend. Nothing was as important to him as his faith and his family, and he led us as such.
One of his most admirable and memorable attributes was the strong and composed quality of his character. When he spoke, we would listen. His words were always spoken with thoughtful intent. Let this memory of him shepherd how we all respond to each other in the face of opposition. As in James 1 verse 19, “Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath”.
My kids’ hearts hold a special place for their Great Grandpa. Visits with him regularly included puzzles, painting and lots of stamps. Though Covid brought unique challenges for families, that didn’t stop ours from deck side visits and video calls. And it was always a special day getting mail from Great Grandpa. Recently during my birthday dinner, while chatting with my son, he began to tell us all about the toy truck and tunnel him and his friend had once built on the dirt floor of a family barn. He could engage a 9 year old boy with the same attentiveness and respect as another grown man. His love transcended both generations and pandemics. He had the beautiful capability to connect us all.
The man we are honoring today leaves a legacy that will be shared with generations to come. He lived a good and faithful life and his spirit will live on through the family he built. My daughter Izzie asked where Grandpa went and I told her he went to heaven.
“So did he go HOME home?” she asked.
“Yes, Grandpa went home home with God.”