Remembering Grandpa

Jack and his "More Pa."
This is one of my favorite pictures of my Grandpa with Jack.
Grandpa named himself "More Pa" when Great-Grandpa was too hard for Jack to say.

Life is strange. We learn the lesson all the time that we should hold on to our loved ones and savor every moment with them. Then life gets rolling and we forget that lesson until something happens and we are reminded again.

My grandpa started getting sick a couple months ago. He was in the hospital over Thanksgiving. We had Thanksgiving at his place, but without him. It felt weird without him there. Shortly after Thanksgiving, his health started going downhill quickly. We made a trip to see him a week ago because things were not going well.

After visiting for several hours last weekend, I held his hand for a long time, kissed his forehead, and said goodbye. Down deep, I felt that I was saying goodbye for the final time. I held onto hope that it wasn't truly goodbye. But it was. Grandpa died this past Thursday. Honestly, I could have said goodbye a million times and it wouldn't have been enough.



My grandpa was an interesting man. For anyone who was meeting him for the first time, he might have been a bit too much to take in all at once. (And I say that with all the love in my heart). He could make me furious one minute and then fill my heart with love the next. Grandpa liked to stir the coals and see what kind of fire he could start.

As a kid, I remember pizza in the park. Loading up in the car, going to Winterset, having Breadeaux Pizza, and playing until dusk. I remember the odd jobs that Grandpa used to have us "help" with (building a shed, painting the fence). And what I loved about those odd jobs was that he made us feel like he could have never done the job without us. (And I know better... I'm sure we were more of a pain than we were help)!

Grandpa was a napper. When we were kids, he always made sure to tell us that it was important to wake him up at 'such & such' a time. I'm not sure how the tradition started, but it was our job to kiss him and wake him up. And he loved it every time.

One of the things that I got from my Grandpa was the love of having the middle cinnamon roll in the pan. I never told him, but I always felt I was competing with him to get one of those middle cinnamon rolls. We shared a love for the really gooey middle ones.

My very best memory of Grandpa is that even though he sometimes appeared to have a tough outer shell, he had a soft heart for his family and friends. Every time we were leaving and saying our goodbyes, I would get a hug from him and just when I thought the hug was over, he'd whisper in my ear, "I love you, Christy." It made me feel like I was the most important person in the world.


I love you, Grandpa.