My Pappy passed away suddenly in early February of this year. I had just seen him only a week prior as I sat in his living room, telling him about new potential job opportunities, the house that Dan, Maddy and I are going to move to next year, and the growth we've been going through over the past year. I listened as he shared his wisdom, ensuring me that no matter how difficult, marriages can work as long as both individuals choose to invest in and support the other. He was so excited about our house and so encouraging about the jobs. I listened as he shared his own adventures over the past weeks, recovering from heart surgery and progressing in the healing process as quickly as he could so that he could be ready for the summer, grass cutting, gardening, mulching. etc. Maddy played around him, excited to be with her "Pappyyyyy" and we soon said our good-byes, his hearing aide ringing in my ear because I so often would get too close and set off the feedback. God was so gracious to us during this visit, allowing circumstance to come together in such a way that allowed us to share such precious moments together, not even knowing what the next few days had in store.
I have been unable to fully describe the loss I have felt from his passing. My Granny and Pappy have held a very special and dear place in our lives since we were very young. When living in Germany, my family spent the summer months living with them on their small farm, cooking "weenies" on bonfires, fishing in the "crick", playing dress up in the back room, celebrating birthdays, reading, making jelly, picking blackberries, making pies, riding on the tractor, playing in the rain, the list goes on. In a time of transience and change, their house became what I would consider my home. Once, he tried to convince Nicole and I that they were moving across the street as a practical joke, only to then realize that we were devastated at this idea because their home was the only consistent house we had. My Pappy was like a second father to me, and my Granny, like a second mother. They made every effort to come to every musical performance, host us for frequent weekend visits, save baby birds that we found in the backyard, travel to crab fests, visit craft fairs, go out to eat at favorite restaurants, make pizza bread and other traditional Italian dishes together, and simply enjoy spending time together. He was a wonderful listener, always interested in how life had been treating us and always wanting to encourage patience, hard work, respect, and appreciation.
His love for his family and friends was evidenced by all he poured his time and energy into, from fixing up old cars that he could take for a spin with us around his old neighborhoods, to cutting down trees that attracted bees and threatened the health of his grandchildren. He loved taking walks around the neighborhood and strove to do that every day for as long has his body would allow. Once great-grandchildren came along, his love grew even deeper and richer. Watching him with my cousin's children, seeing the twinkle in his eye as he drove them around in the trailer behind the tractor, or sat with them on his lap brought me joy. But, witnessing this same, abounding love for my own daughter, made me love him all the more. He never tired of holding her, even when she was fussy, and his persistence almost always led to him calming Maddy down so much that she would take a long nap in his arms. Because of this love and persistence, she knew him, and still knows him today.
My Pappy was a man of humor, an important characteristic not to be forgotten. He had nicknames for everyone (more more PC than others), including "pissant" and continually poking fun at Dan for the silly things he would do (poor guy, I definitely was the one to expose those stories). At the same time, he could talk about politics, stocks, and almost anything you would ever want or need to know about cars, home ownership, farming and mining. He was one of the most resourceful people I have ever met and if he didn't' know something, you could bet that he would find a book or resource so that he could learn more.
Perhaps one of the most daunting realizations in writing this entry is knowing that I can't create a picture here that fully illuminates the man he was and the sweet relationship we shared. There are so many stories that I want to share, so many memories that can only be captured by the quick flashes in my mind, too quick and rich to write down on paper to the extent they deserve. I know for each one of my stories, there are dozens more that I have forgotten or that others experienced. But, this is what reminds me of the incredible blessing it was to have him in my life for as long as he was.
As I have mentioned before, my Pappy and Granny were the reason for the creation of this blog. Knowing that we would be having Madelyn while still in San Francisco and so far away from them, Dan and I wanted to create a way to keep them updated on all our experiences, adventures, and pictures during those months apart. With their encouragement, we continued on through the move and it provided a way to communicate with them even while he recovered after his surgery. He said he always enjoyed reading what I wrote, whether it was a lengthy diatribe about Barbara Streisand or a short children's book inspired by his own experiences and ideas. So, you see, writing for me is a consistent and special reminder of his love and encouragement.
This is now the year of firsts for our family. The first walks, evenings, dinners, conversations, blog entries, etc as we allow ourselves to fully process and experience his loss. I continually catch smells that lead to memories in the most unexpected places - from spumoni icecream in the freezer section at the grocery store, to the smell of Lifesaver mints that we used to share on our trips home from the airport. As my Granny says, we just have to take one moment at a time and each day at a time. And so, here is my first - this one was for you, Pappy. xoxoxoxo
