A letter to my Pop-pop

Four years ago, February 4, 2007, one of the greatest men in my life went to heaven. I wrote a letter to him and Kev read it at the funeral because I wasn't strong enough to read it myself. At the time, I was blogging at homeschoolblogger and I posted a portion of the letter over there. Today, I thought I'd repost on this blog as I share these memories with my children...

Pop-pop,

As I sit here this morning, my mind is flooded with memories of you.

*The time you sent your grown daughters to their room for fighting and they obeyed.

*The trip to South Dakota to take me to college. I remember being somewhere in Wisconsin, Mom-mom was driving. We were all holding on tight, scared to death because she was driving so close to the back of a truck hauling a boat. I remember none of us saying anything and all of us hoping she’d give up her turn soon. Then I remember you finally broke the silence. You said, “Mom, you oughta slow down a bit. If you get any closer to that boat, I’ll be able to read the serial numbers off the truck engine”. Everyone laughed, except mom-mom.

*I remember one birthday when you surprised me with my own little flowerbed. I will never forget how much you loved flowers and that you were thrilled to share that love with me.

*The joy you found in my children. You enjoyed their antics and never got tired of hearing the funny things they say and do.

*The night we were eating dinner and Mom-mom’s chair broke out from under her. She fell and you, Uncle Artie and I sat there stunned for a second. Then you said, “Mom, are you alright?” She was able to squeak out that she was okay and you said “good, then we can laugh” and we all laughed until we cried.

*Then there is my most favorite memory of all. When I came back from college, before Kev and I married and I was living with you. I’ll never forget the day I made lunch and Mom-mom told me to put mustard on your sandwich. You stomped your foot on the floor and said “that’s it. I’ve had it. I do NOT want mustard on my sandwich. I hate mustard.” I’ll never forget that Mom-mom began to argue with you, insisting that you do like mustard. She said “for fifty years you’ve eaten mustard on your sandwiches.” You looked at her and replied “and for fifty years I’ve hated every bite.” At that point, I went to my room and decided you could make your own sandwich.

You know, as I remember that day, it was funny. Very funny. At the same time, it speaks volumes of your character Pop-pop. For fifty years you ate mustard on your sandwiches, when you hate mustard. I used to think it was because you wouldn’t speak up to Mom-mom. That might be so, but as I recall the memory, something else comes to mind. Maybe you never spoke up because you didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Maybe you decided to just be thankful for a wife that made your lunch.

We’d all do well to be thankful for our spouses the way you were Pop-pop. I know you didn’t have a perfect marriage. I know there were tough times, but yet again, your behavior speaks volumes of your character. I never heard you and mom-mom fight. I never heard anything but love towards her in your voice. Even when you were irritated, you were loving and kind and funny. Always, you were funny.

Pop-pop, I love you so very much. I told you that so many times, but I don’t think you ever understood just what you meant to me.

You were my Grandpa, but you were so much more.

You were my rock, a shelter, during a tumultuous childhood.

You were more than a Grandpa, you were my sunshine on so many gray days.

You were more than a Grandpa, you were my own personal clown to make me laugh when I needed it most.

You were more than a Grandpa, you were one of my biggest fans, always encouraging me to reach for the stars.

You were more than a Grandpa, you were were my hero.

You were more than a Grandpa, you were my friend.

Pop-Pop, you left an amazing legacy. In numbers alone, it’s amazing…seven children, twenty-two grandchildren, and so far twenty great-grandchildren.

What those numbers don’t tell, is the legacy of love, humility and servanthood you passed on to us. You loved your family more than anything, and you served them faithfully for years, working so hard to provide, never complaining.

When life gave you lemons, you not only made lemonade, but you put those silly little tropical umbrellas and a crazy straw in your glass to boot!

I am thankful for the 30yrs I had with you and I will cherish the memories.

The only time Pop-pop was able to hold Parker 2006