Papaw

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 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.