When I was a kid, it seemed like I was always waiting in line at family functions. The line - six giggling children deep - snaked about my grandparents’ living room. As with any line - whether it is at a theme park, movie theater, or even at the nearby grocery store - the goal was to get to the front; there was great anticipation to do so. At the front of this line was my grandfather’s chair and Grandpa - one grandchild on his knee - bucking and braying or kicking and neighing. Grandpa took the idea of a “horsy ride” to the extreme, customizing each one and not limiting himself to equestrian feats. Curious of what it might be like to ride an elephant? Simply make the request when your turn arrived and he would do his best to replicate each thumping step and trumpeting blow.
I can’t imagine how much Grandpa’s knee ached after several trips through the line by each grandchild, but the smile never passed from his face and he was always willing to meet requests for “one more turn,” even if they came from the tub of chubbiness that was the toddler version of his youngest grandson.
I have been blessed enough in my life to have four grandparents with amazing qualities - qualities that played big roles in shaping the person I am today. Grandpa, in particular, carried an abundance of traits that I have at least attempted to pick up through my 28 years.
He was a man of great faith, but knew that actions often speak with a greater volume than words. He was not preaching on the corner, but any observation of his everyday life would make his true beliefs clear. His core values were indisputable.
He was a man that knew the value of hard work. Some men farm. Some do people’s taxes. Grandpa did both. After his days of farming were complete, he kept doing taxes and continued the work well into his 80s.
He was a man of great humor - funnier than I could ever hope to be. With a wry smile and Sahara-dry wit, Grandpa could draw deep belly laughs with a simple two-word remark or have folks amusingly captivated by a story about something as simple as a 20-minute car ride. He loved to bring smiles to people’s faces and kept at it into his 95th year.
As with my three grandparents who preceded him in passing, Grandpa was unfailingly dedicated to his family - his grandkids in particular. He would attend school plays, football games, and anything else a kid might get wrapped up in and always had words of support. After a game where I scored a touchdown in junior high, he told me he’d never seen someone run so fast. Now well aware of my own athleticism (or lack thereof) I know the statement obviously contained a load of embellishment, but to a 5-6, 105 lbs., eight grader, it was a hefty compliment.
Days after his passing, a wealth of great memories remain, but the clichéd “feels like something is missing“ take on things holds true. On one of my final visits to see Grandpa, my dad and I took him to an outside courtyard of the nursing home. His speech was labored and whisper-soft, so he did not really speak at all. He didn’t have to. Once the wheels of his wheelchair rolled out the courtyard door, the look on his face seemed to morph. His face lifted and there was a sense of great comfort surrounding him. The visit is something I won’t soon forget; the way that something I take for granted each day could bring such appreciation years down the road.
He had slowed in recent years and there is no doubt that some days were filled with incredible pain, both physical and mental. Nevertheless, much like the days when an aching knee served as the greatest form of amusement for seven youngsters, he seemed to put it all aside when the grandchildren were around. His smile of hello seemed a little wider when grandkids would visit and brightness from years gone seemed to return to his eyes when a great-grandchild would have a chance to explore his collections.
It is clear that family brought great joy to Grandpa’s life. I just hope he knows that he brought as much to ours.
God bless grandparents.
I can’t imagine how much Grandpa’s knee ached after several trips through the line by each grandchild, but the smile never passed from his face and he was always willing to meet requests for “one more turn,” even if they came from the tub of chubbiness that was the toddler version of his youngest grandson.
I have been blessed enough in my life to have four grandparents with amazing qualities - qualities that played big roles in shaping the person I am today. Grandpa, in particular, carried an abundance of traits that I have at least attempted to pick up through my 28 years.
He was a man of great faith, but knew that actions often speak with a greater volume than words. He was not preaching on the corner, but any observation of his everyday life would make his true beliefs clear. His core values were indisputable.
He was a man that knew the value of hard work. Some men farm. Some do people’s taxes. Grandpa did both. After his days of farming were complete, he kept doing taxes and continued the work well into his 80s.
He was a man of great humor - funnier than I could ever hope to be. With a wry smile and Sahara-dry wit, Grandpa could draw deep belly laughs with a simple two-word remark or have folks amusingly captivated by a story about something as simple as a 20-minute car ride. He loved to bring smiles to people’s faces and kept at it into his 95th year.
As with my three grandparents who preceded him in passing, Grandpa was unfailingly dedicated to his family - his grandkids in particular. He would attend school plays, football games, and anything else a kid might get wrapped up in and always had words of support. After a game where I scored a touchdown in junior high, he told me he’d never seen someone run so fast. Now well aware of my own athleticism (or lack thereof) I know the statement obviously contained a load of embellishment, but to a 5-6, 105 lbs., eight grader, it was a hefty compliment.
Days after his passing, a wealth of great memories remain, but the clichéd “feels like something is missing“ take on things holds true. On one of my final visits to see Grandpa, my dad and I took him to an outside courtyard of the nursing home. His speech was labored and whisper-soft, so he did not really speak at all. He didn’t have to. Once the wheels of his wheelchair rolled out the courtyard door, the look on his face seemed to morph. His face lifted and there was a sense of great comfort surrounding him. The visit is something I won’t soon forget; the way that something I take for granted each day could bring such appreciation years down the road.
He had slowed in recent years and there is no doubt that some days were filled with incredible pain, both physical and mental. Nevertheless, much like the days when an aching knee served as the greatest form of amusement for seven youngsters, he seemed to put it all aside when the grandchildren were around. His smile of hello seemed a little wider when grandkids would visit and brightness from years gone seemed to return to his eyes when a great-grandchild would have a chance to explore his collections.
It is clear that family brought great joy to Grandpa’s life. I just hope he knows that he brought as much to ours.
God bless grandparents.
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