My Granddad...

...is dying. I guess most grandchildren experience this time in life, but no matter how expected it is, it is never really expected. I knew that he had been taken to the hospital a couple of days ago. He had hurt a toe and an infection. It didn't seem like much, but...

That's the way I started this blog a few days ago. I guess I really didn't want to finish it. So, when I was distracted, I left it alone. My Granddad died Friday evening.

I got the call from my folks in the late evening. I'd been expecting it since Wednesday, when my Dad called my cell phone twice in ten minutes, then later several other times. I was in meetings and couldn't answer, but I suspected that something of this nature was afoot. I got my family together and went to be with my Dad. After all, it was his Dad.

While we sat together, the kids played in youthful innocence. They really don't comprehend what is going on. And I am thankful for that. There is time enough for the realities of living and dying to impact their lives. Plus, I thought it was appropriate for my Dad to see their play and to see that life goes on, that there is another generation that needs him too. And that there is still much in this family to thank God for. I also spent some time reminiscing about my Granddad and the ways he touched my life. I'll share some of those thoughts here.

When I was a boy, it was sort of a routine that my brother and I would spend the weekend with my grandparents. They lived close, so this was relatively easy. It seemed like it was more of a summertime experience, or at least I remember the summer experiences more vividly, or maybe they just touched me more deeply. Anyway, there were three things that we did then that I do or enjoy to this day and at least one more that I want to do someday.

My Granddad was a baseball fan. He was a football fan too, but it was the baseball that brings me the most nostalgia. In the evenings when the game was on, and that is most every evening in the summer, he would flip on a little AM radio and listen to the call. I really came to associate listening to the game with being together with my Granddad. In some strange twist of fate, I now work in an office located in Ameriquest Field. My desk is next to a two story glass wall in left center. I see a lot of baseball games. But, I still would rather turn on the radio at my desk and just listen. There is nothing like the anticipation of the call; that slight delay between the pitch and the play always has me hanging on every work. It is exciting. To me, it is the best way to enjoy the game. I think my Granddad would agree.

My Granddad was also a fisherman. He bought a house in a small community on the north side of Lake Lewisville before I was born. We just called it the Lake House. My Mom and Dad lived there for a while. And when I was born, I lived there for a while. After my brother came along, we moved and it became just a weekend get away. My grandparents moved up there after they retired, planning to spend their remaining years in a place of great memories. Being within walking distance to the lake wasn't a bad deal either. It gave us lots of opportunity to fish and boat and we did. We always seemed to be looking for this sunken Christmas tree, or something...a fishing hole. We didn't have any fancy electronics like I have on my boat today. No, we just putted around looking at landmarks and guessing. It was great. I always got sunburned and we never seemed to catch much, but it was great. We fished and boated a lot in my younger years. The Corps closed that side of the lake about the time I was a teenager and a lot of the fishing and boating stopped, but the die was cast.

After moving back from West Texas a few years ago, I bought a small boat and started to enjoy fishing again. I wanted to take my Granddad out on the lake, but I never got the chance to. That's ok, though, my love for the sport started with him and I hope to pass it along to my boys as well.

The third thing I will always remember my Granddad for is the riding lawn mower. You see, the Lake House was on a half acre lot and it had a lot of grass to cut. My Granddad bought this little Sears & Roebuck riding lawn mower to tackle it with. When I was old enough to drive the thing, he was more than happy to let me. I tore all over that yard. I made tracks and patterns, I went fast and I went slow. I mowed in the morning, evening and midday, it didn't matter. I just wanted to mow.

Now I live on a one acre lot. I also have a riding lawn mower. When my Granddad would come over for a visit, he would always ask me, "Mark, how big is this place?" "Oh, about an acre," was my reply. "You got a riding lawn mower? That sure is a lot of yard to take care of." "Yeah, Pop, I've got a riding mower, you want to see it?" And so it would go. We usually had that conversation ten or twelve times in a visit; he was already showing the signs of the brain degeneration that was to come. But I always answered him like it was the first time. I owed him that dignity. I still enjoy mowing the grass. I guess it makes me feel like a kid. When my boys ask me to mow, I tell them its a privilege and they have to earn it. My oldest is ten. It won't be long now before the tradition is passed on.

Finally, my Granddad was a gardener. He and my Grandma had several gardens. The had some flower gardens, but mostly, they had vegetable gardens. They had two large gardens out in the back and shared a communal garden with several other neighboring families in a large lot across the street. When we were boys, my brother and I would work in the garden with them picking, weeding, cleaning. They grew all sorts of things. They had potatoes, corn, carrots, tomatoes, green beans, peas, avocado, squash, beets, lettuce, cabbage, onions...I can't remember what else. We seemed to spend hours out in the gardens. Now I have the space to garden. So far, I have not. I want to though. Maybe someday I will.

You know, these are just a few of the ways I have been changed and influenced by my Granddad. I am sure that there are many more. Some people don't have the privilege of knowing their grandparents. I did and I am thankful for that. My Granddad was a great man. I know that in many ways I am who I am because I knew him.

I love you, Pop! I miss you too.


The picture at the top is of my Granddad holding my son. I took a picture of it yesterday while my brother and I were moving some of my Granddad's furniture out of the assisted living facility. It seemed to capture him well.

Reprise:

I’ve been thinking about eulogies. I guess I’ve been thinking about my eulogy in particular. Above, there are some great memories of my Granddad, but ultimately, what matters most in both life and death is our relationship with the Living God. His name is Jesus Christ. As you read these words, examine your own life. I have, and I want my life to be marked by love, peace and joy. When my children and grandchildren look back on my life, I hope that they say, “Not only did my dad teach me to hunt and fish, to play ball and music and to love family; my dad loved the Lord, and he loved me. He loved me so much he showed me how to have a relationship with Jesus Christ.” That would be a great eulogy. What will your eulogy be?