Papa

There've been some busy times lately. The most being the loss of my grandpa, Papa. Last weekend was a flutter of time between when he was here and when he went Home on July 13th. He was a brave man. Full of integrity, truth, and love. He didn't know a stranger and made everyone feel important. When he spoke to you, he made you feel like the most special person in the world. When he opened his mouth, everyone listened. Not because he demanded it, but because you knew that whatever was said was something worth hearing.

"I love my God, my family, and my country," he said many times. And he lived it. There's no doubt. There are some big shoes that lie empty in a quieter house in Fayetteville now. They won't be filled. There's no one who can.

He was a big man. A walking mountain. His hands swallowed other mens' in his own. But they were tender too. They checked my car's oil almost everytime I visited. They wrapped me in hugs. They handed me a daily morning biscuit. They touched my hair. They had my genes.

His voice was deep and loud. One that led troops in WW 2 and Korea. One that said vows 58 years ago to his young sweetheart and the woman who was his soulmate. His voice was loud even at a whisper. In fact, I don't know that he was physically able to really whisper! His voice told stories of war, life, love, jokes, memories, and dreams. His voice echoes even in his absence. It still is heard. Clearly now in my memories. I pray that I don't ever stop hearing it.

He was a good man- big in character and appreciative of life. He was jolly. He was a fighter, even to his last breath. He was brave. He gave even when he knew nothing could be returned. He was respected and for good reasons. He set the bar for those around him. He was a giant. He was my grandfather.

I'm thankful that I knew him and that I could call him Papa.