Granpa John

So, it has been awhile.  Last night I had a dream that I started blogging again, so I thought I might try it out today.  My last post was about a trip that we took in July...since then I have started a new job, Luke and I bought a house, started a new small group through our church, and it is already close to Christmas.  More than any of those things, I experienced loss in a deeper way than I ever have.  I lost my Grandpa John to complications with leukemia.  One day he was up on backhoe doing work for other people, and the next he was in the hospital sick.  I just wanted to post the letter I had the privilege of sharing during his funeral on November 21 (the day before Thanksgiving). 

Grandpa,

I can’t believe you are not here today.  I can’t believe that you will not be with us Christmas morning or playing games with us at the beach this year.  I can’t believe you are gone. But, even though you are not with us any longer, there are so many life lessons we have received from you that I know we will carry with us for the rest of our lives.  

You have taught us that we should always take notes and pay attention to the world around us.  Ever since I can remember you have had a pocket on every shirt specifically for a couple note cards and a pen.  You observed the world around you and wanted to remember the things that you had seen and heard.  At some point in life you moved to bigger notebooks and I remember taking a look at them one day.  You would share what time the owl left the nest in his backyard and what time he returned.  Similarly, at the beach you would jot down the time of the sunrise and sunset.  You would take notes about who called that day and who you needed to call back.  You appreciated every moment and observed the beauty of people and nature around you.  You have taught is to enjoy the simple wonders of the world.  Thank you.

In that, you also taught all of us to pay attention to details.  I remember hearing about the time that Dereck, Ken, and Dad all went over to your house to help you build a deck.  From what I hear, you let no mistake go unnoticed.  I think he wanted Dereck to move a nail a quarter of an inch to the left, because a small detail like that made a difference.  As annoying as it may have been to them at the time, I think we can all say we appreciate this about you.  You taught us if we are going to do something, we need to do it right.  There is no use in doing something if it is not something you can be proud of.   I have tried to carry that mentality with me, which I most definitely got from you, into my school work, job, and life in general. I am so thankful for it. 

Speaking of school work, you have taught all of us to care about our education.  Whether or not you knew this, you modeled that for us.  You are the perfect example of a life-long learner.  I remember when we went to Thomas Jefferson’s house in Monticello—most people go and browse the area for a couple hours.  I am convinced if we did not force you, you would have stayed there for 2 days straight—soaking in the information and applying it to your life.  You have attempted to instill that desire for education into all of us, especially your grandchildren. I know each of us have been so proud to call you and share with you about an accomplishment we have had because we knew you cared more than anyone else.  Whether it was Cobe sharing about reading the most books in his class, Kenna having the chance to dress up as Elvis for a school project, Dereck graduating from Appalachian State before all his friends, or when I got into grad school—we were eager and proud to share the news with you.   

You also taught all of us to concentrate and never give up!  Whether it was a sporting event, a school assignment, or a small house project—concentration and focus was absolutely necessary.   Even when you were sick you shared with mom that you needed to really concentrate on what you needed to do as you laid in the hospital bed.  You were always so focused and motivated, more so than any person I have ever met.  

Grandpa, more than anything else you have taught us, you have taught people to care about people.  You always put people first, no matter what the circumstance.  A few days after you got your blood work back and were still feeling weak—you were out on your backhoe doing work for someone else.  You would cut wood and give it to a woman from church during the winter.  You would spend all weekend preparing for the Ruritan club’s fish fry.  You would call Luke up to make sure he knew how to fix my car.  You helped Ken sand the floors in his house.  Even in the hospital you shared multiple times that you needed to come up to Harrisonburg to help Luke and I with our new house.  You would literally do anything for anyone at any point in time.  You never complained, never expected anything in return and always had a smile on your face.  I guess your senior class was right as they gave you the superlative of “friendliest.”  People mattered to you and I hope that I can carry that same love, concern, and passion for people into my life.  

You loved your family so well.  You took care of your sister Jean and always made sure she had what she needed.  You loved us grandchildren in a way that I can’t even explain.  You were at our sporting events cheering us on, our graduations sharing how proud you were, and you have never forgotten a birthday.  You would call us random times just to check in.  You welcomed Luke into our family with more than open arms, teaching him about the best tools to buy, chatting with him in the mornings at the beach and sharing stories.  And even though Uncle Ken and my dad may have been intimated by you at first (with your big beard and all!) they became not just your son-in-laws, but your sons.  You loved your daughters deeply; you cared about their success in the world and soaked in every moment you shared with them.  And, you loved Grandma.  Your high school love turned into a consistent, steady, adventurous marriage full of traveling, friends, and visiting family.  I am so glad we got to celebrate your 50^th wedding anniversary and had the chance to talk about the years that God gave you to love each other.

Last night when we were at the visitation several people shared something that struck me…it went something like “John, he didn’t talk much about his faith but he lived it out more than anyone else I know.”  You might not have been at church every Sunday—but that’s because you were living out what all of us would just talk about in church (love your neighbor more than yourself particularly stands out).  And last night I heard person after person share that you were one of the greatest people they ever met.  I stood there proud to be your granddaughter and honored to hear how much you have impacted the lives of others.  

Grandpa, unlike you, I am selfish.  All I  want is for you to be at the beach with us in July, waiting down the stairs on Christmas morning, or even coming up to visit our new house in Harrisonburg.  I want to make you proud when I graduate with my Master’s and when Luke and I become parents…eventually. I want to call you and share with you the things that you taught me and how I am applying them.  I want you to be here.  

This past week the verse from Philippians 4 has been ringing in my ears.  I wasn’t sure why, but now I know.  It says, “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!”  So even though I am upset that you are no longer with us, I am rejoicing that I had the best grandfather in the world.  I am rejoicing that I have so many great memories and stories to share.  And I am rejoicing that you have taught me so much and I know I have a lot to give to others.  Thank you for loving all of us so well.