Thursday, December 15, 2011

Dear Granddaddy...

Dear Granddaddy....

My aunt called today, and told me you'd passed away. I know you're 87, you've been sick for a while, but it's never easy to hear this news, even when it's not surprising... 

As I'm thinking about it today, I remember my mother dying years ago.  There are things about her that I'll never forget, but I'm sure there are things that I've forgotten, too, that I wish I hadn't.  So here, I'm going to write a few things I've been thinking about today... things that I don't want to forget, and things I hope you remember, too.

You used to give us hugs when we saw  you that were so strong that we couldn't breathe. I hated them as a child, but when I grew up, I looked forward to those crushing hugs every time I saw you.  Over the last years, they got weaker, and that made me so sad.

You wore Old Spice aftershave, and I have loved the scent ever since.

You had the biggest Christmas stocking of anyone, and we always tried to sneak coal or sticks into it every year. You never complained, and we always thought it was such a funny joke.

You loved to travel, and for as long as you could, you traveled all around the world.  I still tell people today that you were snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef in your late 70's... and I wanted to do exactly the same thing.

You took tons of photos... we still have the slides. Some are the most beautiful photographs I've ever seen. But the one I remember most is of a broken down, bent fence on a beach in New Jersey. You were an artist, and I cherish the memories that you preserved for all of us with your camera.

You played with all the grandkids at Myrtle Beach every year when we were little, leading all of us down to the water like little ducks... all of us lined up in single file, with a floaty around our waists, marching down to the beach in size order... tallest to shortest.

You went to war, but never spoke about it to anyone. The only story you ever told me was about the time when you and the guys were taking "baths" on the beach somewhere in the Pacific. You said you were using your helmets to scoop up the water, and pour over yourselves, and you remembered a few native girls walking by and giggling at you.

When my mother passed away, you told me that I looked just like her... a compliment that still holds my heart today. And you told me that no father should outlive their children, and I know how it hurt you when she had to go.

You told me that I would find someone that would take care of me, but that if he ever hurt me, to let you know and you'd come and take care of it for me. I have found someone... he won't hurt me. But I can't tell you how happy I am that you met the love of my life before you left us.

You made wooden furniture for the grownups, and wooden toys for the kids in your shed in the back yard. You loved working out there, and what you made was so beautiful.  I had to force you to make me a wooden train one year... and a little wooden table.  I still have them. I cherish them.

You were an engineer for the phone company... I remember when I was little, you pointed to the payphones at the airport, telling me that you helped make those.  I was so impressed and thought you must be famous.

You taught me the sign language symbol for "I love you"... which our entire family uses all the time now.  It's a part of our lives forever.

I know you're with mom now...where you are not sick, or suffering... where you can see what us silly people down here are doing, fretting about the small things that don't really matter much in the end.

I love you, granddaddy.  And I miss you.  You are part of me forever, and so I won't say goodbye... but instead, I'll just say ... I'll see you later, in another place.  Say "Hi" to mom from me... and give her a hug.

I love you,
-Beth


2 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry--My Grampa Parker wore Old Spice, too, and I can't help but love the smell to this day. I'm glad you will always have these memories--you can come back here anytime and remember those wonderful moments.

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