When I hung up the phone I didn't feel a flood of sadness. I was surprised by my lack of tears. And though I was most definitely saddened by the end of my grandfather's life, I somehow felt a surge of laughter overtake me. It sounds strange to say, but when I reflect on my grandfather's life, it's hard not to be filled with joy and admiration. He was a man who was not only loved by his family and friends, but a man who knew how to love. And though not without his own shortcomings, he was a man who knew how to love people well.
My grandfather was a man of God and he was a man of compassion. He was a man who demonstrated love to children who didn't even belong to him. I can remember visiting my grandparents on weekends and on Sunday mornings he and my grandmother filled a church pew with small children who's parents did not attend with them. Those children were not always bathed or well cared for at home, but the one thing that was constant for them was the unconditional love they received from my grandfather. They knew they were loved and experienced a bit of God's compassion for them through the actions of my grandparents.
It's interesting to see those qualities that my grandparents had, now flowing out of my brother or other members of our family. My grandfather never met a stranger and he was genuinely interested when he asked a question. He knew how to listen and how to counsel.
There are so many things that I learned from him, but the phrases that come to mind immediately are:
1. There's no such thing as a free lunch.
2. Don't ever put coins in your mouth because you don't know what dead man's pocket those might have been in at one time.
3. Never believe anything you hear and only half of what you see.
4. Don't be too quick to say you'll "never do that," because you just never know. (boy, was he right about that one!)
All of that has been useful advice to me over the years and I haven't forgotten much of anything.
My grandfather was sweet to be around. He cherished my grandmother. Sure, they had some good fights over the years, but in the end they choose to love one another in spite of the failed expectations and disappointments their partner may have inflicted upon them.
He was always easy to get a laugh out of. I could call him and share some of the most ridiculous stories that had happened to me and he and my grandmother would just roar with laughter. As much joy as I brought to them as their granddaughter, I'm certain that they brought me double.
I remember how sentimental my grandfather could be. The simplest gifts could make him tear up and when Ed Cleaver got choked up you knew you'd gotten him a gift that he truly loved. And I'll always remember the Christmas that he went to great pains to get me a pair of silver hoop earrings and when I lost one of the pair, I scrambled to replace it with a duplicate earring. Because I knew how special those earrings were to him, how much he had wanted me to have that exact pair. And I still have them today.
He loved each of his grandchildren and we all had our own unique relationship and encounters with him. I, perhaps more than any of the other grandchildren in our family, had a very special relationship with my grandfather. I can remember being in my mid twenties and talking to him on the phone. As soon as I'd hung up the phone, my roommate said to me, intrigued, "you were talking to your grandfather?"
We just had a special connection. A man who hated cats, Grandpa gave MY cat special privileges around the office when Fluffy came to live on the farm with them.
He liked to tell me that I was the only grandchild whom he had ever spanked. He had no trouble giving correction when it was needed. Yet the fact that I don't remember those spankings may have something to do with all of the love that he poured out on me over the years that passed since.
He liked to tell me that I was the only grandchild whom he had ever spanked. He had no trouble giving correction when it was needed. Yet the fact that I don't remember those spankings may have something to do with all of the love that he poured out on me over the years that passed since.
From the time I was a small girl he affectionately called me "Wessica." He's the only person on this earth who could get by with changing my name without consequence. He called me "Wes" because I referred to myself as "Wessica," simply because I couldn't say my name, but he thought it was cute and never stopped calling me that. I think I'm the only grandchild that had a special nickname.
Even a couple of days ago when I called to talk to him for just a bit, he said, "Wes, how's your love life?" He's asked me that question from the time I was a teenager until now and my responses have not varied much over the last 20 years. Seems like a question that would traumatize a young, single woman, but it never phased me. That was just my grandfather and he really wanted to know how my love life was, no matter how pathetic or exhilarating it might have been at the moment the question was posed.
My brother and I both have memories of working for him and my grandmother during the summers, Jonathan helping with the land surveys and me helping to type in land descriptions for title work. He loved to take us along and share stories with us. He knew some of the best tales and some of the most interesting facts about the towns surrounding him. I used to soak up every word of those stories. He knew I loved those stories and wrote down several about our family, making sure I knew he had done so for future generations to hear. I'll probably never write that "family history" he thought I would write, but I know he believed I could do it and would keep those stories alive.
It's not often that a person can leave this earth a sweeter place than it was when they stepped upon it, but I can honestly say that of both my grandmother and my grandfather. They taught me what it meant to love people, even when they seem unlovable. They taught me how to welcome people into my home, accepting them and loving them just as they were, warts and all. They taught me how to be generous, to give gifts freely, to celebrate others whole-heartedly.
It would be dishonest to say that my grandparents were perfect people, but in their imperfections they showed me what grace looks like. They taught me compassion and to love people even when they fail me or leave me broken hearted. They taught me as much through the mistakes they made as they did through the service they gave to others. They were real. They were authentic.
Since receiving that phone call tonight many tears have fallen. But even in my tears, there is joy. Joy because I know he is free. Free from sorrow, free from guilt, free from the hurts and heartaches of this world. He is a free man tonight. And if I can live my life with even half of the joy that my grandfather found in it, it would be a life well lived.
