It's almost Father's Day and I thought it fitting to write about my Grandpa. He's with our Father in Heaven now. I am happy for him and yet mourning his loss. As I crawled into bed tonight I couldn't help but think back on moments with Grandpa. So I thought I might share a few...
Some of my earliest moments I remember where of time spent during corn harvest at the farm. Hours spent in fields picking corn -- or should I say hours playing hide and seek in the fields as the adults picked the corn. Those rows were enormously tall to me and went on forever. I remember the sharp paper burn caused by the corn leaves as I ran. And if I got lost being able to call out and be directed back to the adults by their voices. And then hours husking, silking, splitting, boxing and freezing corn. And the incessant "Are we done yet?" that continued to flow from my lips. It was met by smiles, winks and at times that stern look quickly followed by a wink or a smile from Grandpa. And that mechanical contraption that would hold the corn and silk it for you that Grandpa made. He should have patented some of those inventions.
Then my mind slips to the times I used to help shovel and sweep out the pig pen. What fun! After working to clean out the barn, Grandpa would spray and spray and then brush out the floor. After a few more rinses, then the fun began. I was in boots up to my knees about 5 sizes too big and I would say "okay now, Grandpa?" And he would say "Just a minute", "Okay now!" He would spray water and I would run and then slide across the floor. And he would spray more and I would slide again - so fast the wall would come up too quickly. And then slide again - spinning this time. Until my world would be dizzy and the water was splashed everywhere, even up in my hair. I was laughing and covered in water. Dizzy from the pure pleasure of the sheer freedom of sliding and splashing in water that every young 4-5 year old dreams of. And he would let me continue until I tired from work, fun and laughter. We would tramp back to the house, hand in hand, because I was too slick to make it up the drive alone, and into the back porch. To be met by Grandma's voice "What in heaven's name have you two been doing" Only to be met with my giggles and Grandpa's hand squeeze to remind me to keep it our little secret. And then I was directed to the bathroom to remove those stinking, sopping wet clothes and straight to the shower to become a respectable girl again.
And then my mind skips to times sitting on Grandpa’s lap. "Read it again grandpa". He had one of those laps a child could just curl up in. And sure enough he would read what ever beloved book we had brought to him. Over and Over and Over again, without complaint.
Then my mind wanders to the time the grandchildren were all allowed to run the farm in freedom, during get togethers. Ah the fun of hiding in that old wooden box in the pasture while playing hide and seek. Ah, yes, we hid a little too long. The adults came frantically calling our names. While we debated revealing our location, Grandpa reminded them there was only so far we could go. There is no way we would get too far, and not to worry. So, on we played in our great hideaway house/box for a few more hours.
Then there were the drives down to the cabin. I often rode with Grandma to pick up Grandpa at GM and then on to Virginia we would go. During those trips Grandpa taught me about sun dogs, the sailors warning about red skies. Grandma taught us the joke about "some-er cows" one trip. She said "look, do you see those summer cows?" And I said, "How do you know they are summer cows?", "What are summer cows?". She said, "You just have to look, see -- some are white, and some are brown. They’re some-er cows." I must have repeated that joke to Grandpa about a hundred times during the next hour. Every time we passed a farm. This at that time was every mile. And each time Grandpa would give a hearty laugh at the correct time and smile.
When we reached the cabin, the first item of the day was to find each of the keys on the key ring to unlock the big door. Grandpa would describe them and let me try to find them, even if it took a few minutes, unless I gave up. And sometimes he would lift me up and let me turn the keys. Then, as Grandma unloaded groceries, Grandpa and I saw to the second order of business. (Meaning I would shadow Grandpa -- an important job you know.) Checking under the porch to see if the water line and the breakers were turned on, and the next order of business. A very important task indeed. We (meaning Grandpa) would carry the watermelon down the path to the creek and find a small pocket of water to float the watermelon. Mind you as Grandpa carried the watermelon down the path, I either skipped ahead or slid down behind him, grabbing his belt to stay upright nearly knocking him down on several occasions. I would be given the task of finding a spot where it couldn't float away, but would get cold fast from the water flowing off the mountain.
And I can still hear him and uncle Laben sitting on the porch whistling to the whippoorwills until they came right up onto the steps certain another whippoorwills was calling it.
And then there were the times of teasing him when you found him snoring asleep on the recliner or the rockers. And even mocking him as a young child pretending to sleep with the loudest snores we could muster and breaking into laughter together.
Later, there were times when he just took you aside. And would say "I am so proud of you" or "I want you to know that Grandma and I support you and are praying for you" Or "We miss you" or "We love you". I particularly remember when he took me aside during one of my breaks home during PA school. He just said "I know you can do it. We are so proud of you. We pray for you. And we know you are going to get thorough this".
And the stories he would tell... some sad, some funny.
And the twinkle he could make appear when you would catch his eye across the table or room.
Even one of the times I drove up and was in his room at Menno Haven. The other adults were talking about something. I had tuned out and thought Grandpa was asleep. I was just covering my yawn with my hand, when I saw it. Grandpa stealthily opened his eyes and glanced around and saw he wasn't seen by anyone, then felt my eye on him. His eyes met mine, then laughter flickered across his, as he saw I was yawning at the conversation. He smiled with a twinkle to the eye, then raised his index finger to his lips, with a silent "sh sh" and nod and closed his eyes again. I started to silently laugh. I laughed so hard I choked up a cough to cover the laughter. Which drew the eyes of the adults toward me and away from Grandpa. He opened his eyes again with a twinkle and snapped them shut quickly before the others noticed or could draw him into their conversation. When that conversation finished he perked back up again and got involved again. He was always good at making me laugh. And when he wasn't, I could usually make him laugh.
I also know he struggled at the end. It made me cry to see him struggle to lift his hand or his foot. The sheer frustration at not being able to deal with daily tasks with his own abilities was such a hard thing to watch. It made me wonder how gracefully I will handle that. Probably not very well, but then would I want to give in. One thing Grandpa had in abundance that I gained was his stubborn willpower. I am glad to know he is finally at rest, and will have a functional new body and new found freedom. I am sure he is pestering God with tons of questions, because I fully expect to be filled in when I reach his side in the future...
