His First Heavenly Birthday

     My Grandpa would have been ninety-two today, and instead he is partying it up at the pearly gates. Next week, it will be four months since he breathed his last here on this earth. While the grief is no longer raw, it is still very much woven into the fabric of our everyday. Big milestones are passing, and his presence is dearly missed. Today, I am holding the tension of a spectrum of feelings. I miss my grandpa, his sparkling blue eyes, and weird dad jokes, yet, at the same time my best girl, Nevaeh, his birthday buddy, is turning fourteen tomorrow, leaving middle school behind, and I couldn't be more proud. As I seek to honor these feelings in their acknowledgment and remember my grandpa in the best way, I thought I would share the words I spoke at his funeral. They still hold true today and perfectly describe the incredible man I knew and loved. Happy Heavenly Birthday Opa!! We love you fiercely.

Opa’s Tribute

Opa… such a small name for such a big heart. He loved us all so well in his own ways. He truly lived his life as the ultimate doorkeeper whether at church every single time the doors were opened or at his cozy home where he was the first to welcome all who entered with a hearty handshake, a piercing look in the eye and a warm hello. As a doorkeeper he was also the first to stand guard over his family and loved ones with promises to lay on of hands WITHOUT prayer if needed. Even in these last few years when he couldn’t remember what he had had for breakfast that day, he would still remind me that he could also give the right hand of fellowship, if necessary, all the while shaking his strong fist in the air.

I am so lucky to have had such an amazing and present grandpa. I really can’t think of any childhood memories without him in it, and I didn’t know how big of a blessing that was until I became an adult. One major trait that I always equate with my grandpa is that it was practically a cardinal sin for anyone to go hungry around him, and most of us here have been the true recipients of that firmly held belief. Growing up, even if we had just had lunch at home, he would ask if we were hungry and we would always say yes. There was always time and room for a vanilla cone at McDonalds. Every weekend afternoon and visits from friends and family ultimately led to us eating our body weight in his perfected stovetop popcorn and washing it down with Fresca. I also learned at a young age that a good cup of coffee was never complete unless accompanied by some cookies, a tradition he even enjoyed in his last days. Opa was also never without candy, especially suckers like tootsie pops and dumdums. He kept them everywhere in his pockets, in his truck, in his lunch box, and in his pantry. He used to keep them in a fuzzy pouch hanging off his rearview mirror. As a naïve young child, I thought it was a horses nose and loved to pet it and sift thru it to see what goodies he kept in there. It was so cute and so soft. With much humor, several years later, I finally realized it was not actually a horses nose but a tanned ball sack. We all still  have a good laugh about it to this day. Well Played, Opa.

There is so much we could say about the strength and character of this incredible man. He was fiercely loyal and protective and consistent. He was strong and faithful and always had a dad joke ready to share. He worked hard his whole life with a work ethic that could hardly be matched. Then when he retired, he used that same work ethic to bless and serve his family. He stepped into our everyday ordinary and did all the things. He graciously moved me back and forth to and from college so many times with so much stuff and never bemoaned how much crap I actually had. He was mister fix it and always had the tools to jimmy-rig something or create some new masterpiece we didn’t know we needed. When my dad was deployed, he stepped in as bodyguard, and saved me from some hooligan boys that were not worth his Sweetie’s time. He was there to hold me each time my world fell completely apart, letting my tears soak the chest of his favorite western snap shirt. He was always there to cheer us on no matter what activity we were involved in whether it was sports, drama, church and everything in between. Throughout his years, he truly lived his life with open palms and shared all that he had whenever we needed it. Yet, in all of his goodness the one thing that I hold nearest and dearest to my heart was his unwavering faith. He lived his faith everyday in word and in deed. His worn Bible was always close at hand and creaked with years of good use and the current daily bread rested on the bathroom counter. His voice is still ringing in my ears of him reading Luke chapter 2 at the beginning of every Christmas Eve. He led by example and carried that mantle of faith well. It is because of his faith that I have hope today holding tension with my grief. It is because of his faith that I have a tomorrow to look forward to in being reunited with him. It was because of his foundation of faith that I too am able to live and love well. Here’s to you Opa. Well done good and faithful servant.

Love always,

Your Sweetie