Papaw.
What do you think
of when you say Papaw, Grandpa, Granddad?
Isn’t that
amazing?
That feeling right
there…the one that just made you smile and gave you warm fuzzies…isn’t that the
most amazing feeling? Grandparents.
No other love that
I have ever experienced is so rich and unconditional and encompassing as the
love of a grandparent. It’s truly the
closest thing on earth to the love of God.
Perhaps that’s one
of the beautiful reasons grandparents exist…
My Papaw has been
through a lot in the last 13 or so years.
His body was so tired, but his mind stayed sharp as a tack and his love
and faith never wavered.
I didn’t make it
over to see him before he passed during the night last night. I am full of regret and I’m angry with myself
for not being there…to hold his hand or to say I love you one more time. We talked on the phone Sunday and I don’t
even think I told him I loved him then because we were interrupted by hospital
personnel and had to quickly get off the phone.
Right now I’m letting that guilt and anger escape me, however. Papaw and I knew where we stood with each
other. To me, he hung the moon. To him, I was the reason for the sun to
shine. And that’s how we lived
life. No conditions. We just loved.
Papaw isn’t my
biological grandfather. I am
adopted. Lots of psychological studies
use adopted children to study the many effects of nature versus nurture. Of everyone in my family, my Papaw and I were
more alike than anybody. He was quieter
than me, but we shared the same silly tendencies. He was the jokester, just like me. He loved to laugh and he loved children more
than anything else. He was caring and kind
and generous. He made sure Momaw called
me every day.
I blame him 100%
for my hatred of surprises and my love for opening Christmas presents on
Christmas Eve because it was just too long to wait until Christmas
morning.
The memories I
have with Papaw…to be blessed with 35 years of memories of your grandfather is
a true blessing.
I remember taking walks with Papaw and getting chestnuts from the chestnut tree. I remember throwing rocks in the creek. I remember sneaking in the garden and pulling up all the green onions when they were barely through the ground. He thought it was hilarious.
I remember taking walks with Papaw and getting chestnuts from the chestnut tree. I remember throwing rocks in the creek. I remember sneaking in the garden and pulling up all the green onions when they were barely through the ground. He thought it was hilarious.
I remember him
taking me to the old Kingston school and letting me drive all through the
school yard when I was only 13 or 14 years old.
I remember
standing with him in front of Lacy’s Lights with Christmas anticipation in my eyes.
I remember him
worrying himself to death when Momaw was in the hospital. Their love set the bar so high for me…not a
perfect love…they bickered almost every day of their lives, but a true love…a
love that would endure for so many years through so many battles.
Papaw was in WWII
but never spoke a word about the war…that is, until Riley discovered a love for
American History and began to pick his brain.
Papaw shared with Riley things that he hadn’t shared with anyone.
Papaw was the
epitome of the “strong, silent type" but he had a heart full of love and absolute goodness. No granddaughter and no great-grandchildren
have ever been loved more.
My heart has never
hurt more than it hurts at this moment, but I can’t dismiss the fact that Papaw
is in my heart. He’s a huge part of
Amanda and that remains constant and unchanging.
Nurture wins this
battle. And love wins the war.
