My Grandpa

Isn't it great when the weather accommodates your mood? I sit here on this cold spring day with clouds of gray and bits of nasty snow careening to the ground. I feel a lot like that today. Cold, lifeless, not a lot of color to be found, and bits of nasty pouring out of me. My grandpa died yesterday. I didn't think it was going to upset me because when my grandma died last year the only thing I was upset about was how upsetting it was to everyone else. The short time I had with my grandma, growing up was horrible. She was mean, my extended family got involved a lot. I just remember a lot of yelling, strife and contention. It was the only time in my life, the police were called to my home for domestic violence. My grandma was pitching a whopper of fit and it had turned into my fault. People were yelling and screaming and slapping each other. Some will fault me for speaking of it, but it doesn't change the fact that it happened and as a young teenager it was a horrifying experience. Now, to not speak ill of the dead, when my grandma got older she was the sweetest little thing you would ever meet. Her personality dramatically altered with dementia. My younger siblings had the opportunity to experience a completely different grandma. So that is probably why they were so sad . . . now that I stop to think about it, but I told you that bits of nasty, just like the snow that stubborning clings to spring comes pouring out of the sky, bits of nasty seem to pour out of me. It's a process. Some might identify with and others may shake their head and wonder who gave this girl internet and a blog!

Yesterday I received a call . . . thankfully not a Facebook status about my grandpa (I found out about my grandma by my cousin's Facebook statuses.) I do appreciate my mom taking the time to tell me. My grandpa had had a stroke at the beginning of the week, was not able to eat, so they put a feeding tube in him, but that caused an infection. His heart, too weak from the stroke, wasn't able to keep up the blood flow needed to repair him and actually his insides rotted away. That's the clinical side of it. When I first heard he wasn't doing well, I was clinical about it. I didn't think I would cry or be upset having handled my grandma's death so well! (I say that with a WHOLE lot of sarcasm.) We had a fun day planned. We were going with a bunch of church kids to a bounce house experience! It was going to be a lot of fun! The kids were looking forward to playing. I was looking forward to some girl time with a couple other ladies. I wasn't going to be a pastor's wife that day . . . I had decided. I was just going to be one of the moms with one of the many kids in the crowd. I was going to laugh, joke, have fun, etc. I wasn't going to offer advice, I wasn't going to teach, I was just going to enjoy the fellowship of two dear ladies and really enjoy myself. We pulled into Wendy's and I got the call that the surgery didn't go well, they closed him up and said it would be a matter of hours at most a couple of days and he would die. I cried. I quick called my husband (he has this super power to calm me down, I love him so much) I cried again. He said, he would love to send me out if we could afford stand I thanked him for that sweet sentiment. I tried to get a hold of myself but it was too much. I cried again. You know, I really put a damper on our fun day! That knowledge came to me briefly and I cried some more. I told myself to get a hold of myself. Then I cried out to God and asked Him to get a hold of me. The rest of the day I talked, I might have laughed, I don't remember, at lest I didn't cry. Oh, I did lose my debit card, that is proof I wasn't completely myself. It was hard to process much yesterday, with such sad news in such a happy and colorful place.

Yesterday was kind of a blur. I held a lot in, surprisingly a lot more than I realize. I really loved my grandpa. I didn't know my mom's parents and I didn't really like my grandma (I loved her with christian love but I never really liked her). But I loved and liked my grandpa. Sure, my grandpa made mistakes he was human being. But instead of the mistakes I want to tell you some things I loved about my grandpa and some things he passed down to me. You see, I don't have a thing in my house given to me from my grandparents. I own nothing that belonged to them. Nothing I can touch that they once touched, nothing I can smell that has their scent lingering there, nothing. Part of that made me sad (I really don't know why, but I suspect it is part of the processing process aka grief). I remember when we went to visit my grandpa in Spokane, WA. It was so beautiful there. It was one of the two vacations we took as kids. My grandpa reminisced about my parents as young people. He even told me the joke he told for my mother the first time my dad brought her over for Sunday dinner! He always seemed to have a cup of coffee in his hand. I remember how my grandparents and then the whole clan moved out to TN. I remember the time before all the clan came, when I had my grandpa all to myself for a short wonderful while! I remember how calm he seemed. He would walk around the block with me, coffee in hand, regaling me tales of being in the ministry. My grandpa was a Southern Baptist Preacher (he later became independent baptist). He told me about pastoring, about dealing with people problems. He loved being in the ministry. He had also been in the Air Force but he loved the ministry.

I remember when things would erupt with the clan. My grandpa would usually be the peace keeper or he'd end up in the hospital with chest pains and that usually calmed everyone down. I remember the first time I had enough money saved up to take my grandpa to coffee. To treat my grandpa instead of him always treating other people. I clutched my handful of coins and asked him if he would like to go to coffee ( I get my love of coffee from my grandpa!) I remember how we went out that day. Just the two of us. It is one of the few times I had my grandpa all to myself. He smiled down at me, even as a kid I knew he was humoring me and that in a different way I was humoring him. We talked. I asked questions and he talked. I loved listening to my grandpa talk.

I remember the times I got to play the piano for my grandpa to sing in church. That was exciting.  I remember him telling me to keep up the playing and one day I would be great.  I'm not great but his encouragement got me a lot further than I would have ever gotten without it! I remember many good times with my grandpa.

I remember the first set of pearls I received, they were from my grandpa. They came in this beautiful black velvet pouch. They were gorgeous! They actually had been a forgotten present. Not till we took down the Christmas tree did we find it fallen under the tree skirt of the tree! I love pearls now, If you were take all my costume jewelry away and only let me have one, I would choose pearls hands down, every time!

There are a few things that really shine about my grandpa, (despite the nasty weather outside). His love for people. He would give you the shirt off your back if he hadn't already given it to someone else and it didn't matter how many times you wronged him, he was a pretty forgiving man. It took a lot for my grandpa to write you off and it usually only happened when you did something to his family. He loved having people over. He loved ministering to them. He loved serving them. He would have 50 people over his house, feed them well, as in steaks, and provide fellowship. He put up with a lot of nonsense from my extended family and still loved them fiercely. He often loved the unloveable. They would find refuge and acceptance in his home. He was quick to admit his mistakes and quick to try to work on them. I never knew my grandpa when he was a pastor but I saw it every time he helped people, every time he opened his home, every time he talked to people. He had a pastor's heart. Even up until his death he had opened his home to a new church plant in Mesa, AZ to have their mid-week service in his house. He loved God and what God loved, he loved the church. My grandpa would have church people over just to love on them. Not to take the place of the pastor, no, he always fiercely defended the pastor and even when he had to leave a church due to the pastor's behavior he refused to talk bad about God's man. He told me over the phone, "It is what it is, God has moved me on." When my husband and I contemplated starting a church in Phoenix he promised to help if God moved us down there. He was generous and kind.

My grandpa called me sweetheart. All the time. I don't know how many girls he called sweetheart but he called me sweetheart. It was always so comforting. I remember vividly the first time my boyfriend called me sweetheart and how I cried a few months later when I called my grandpa to tell him about my boyfriend and he called me sweetheart and I realized why I loved being called sweetheart by my boyfriend! It was a bit of love given me by my grandpa that when spoken will continue to touch my heart!

I wish I had known him better. We didn't live around my grandpa except for a few years growing up and then we lived so far away that we couldn't go visit often. And even though I have nothing to hold of his, I have some far more important things he gave me, my love of coffee and pearls, my love of God and what God loved, the church, and my love of opening my home to people of all kind! I will miss my grandpa, but he is in heaven, no pain, no suffering, no more drama. He is with the God he loved and served so faithfully in every way he was capable of for so many years! If I have the opportunity to grow old I hope I will be like my grandpa, "when I am old and gray headed, O God, forsake me not till I have shewn thy strength unto this generation and thy power to everyone that is to come."