My Grandpa always claimed that he was super bashful when he was a youngin'. You wouldn't know it if you had ever been in the same room as him though. He grew into a talker. A big talker. Maybe it is best to describe him as a storyteller.
He was one of those storytellers that would start to tell you a story, say something like, "I may have told you this before..." you would agree that you have heard it, and then he would keep on with the telling of the story as though it doesn't matter if you have heard it before or not.
He obviously had a huge impact on my life. My childhood, adolescence, and adulthood all included him as an important person.
So when he passed I would lie away at night thinking about all of the wonderful things I wanted to make sure everyone that was at his service knew just how important he was to me.
I did something I never thought I would, I spoke at his service.
I am definitely not a public speaker. I get the sweats. I feel like I talk too fast, etc. add this to being crushed emotionally and I figured it would be a recipe for a speech disaster.
But, the night before his service a speech just played out in my head. I had to get up and get it out on paper and I am so glad I did.
I did start out with an ugly cry when I began, and throughout it I am sure everyone heard me snort up my snot a couple times in the microphone. My voice wavered throughout it all. However, I pulled through.
I kept looking down from where I was at the front of the church to the casket with my love, my Grandpa's body safely inside. He wasn't in pain anymore. He looked good that day. I just kept envisioning him smiling at me like he did when I gave a speech at the Optimist Club he was a member of when I came back from Australia when I was sixteen. It was that look that pulled me through.
Remembering Grandpa
Hello.
I'm Emily, in case you didn't know.
I'm the granddaughter you might have heard about a time or two.
For the past 13 years, it's been me and him.
My dad, Randy, died when I was 15 followed six months later by my grandma, Janet.
Grandpa was my parent.
When grandpa and I went home after my grandma's passing we sat down together and realized it was just the two of us. He was left to raise me - a teen girl, 61 years younger than him.
We made a promise then to never let an argument come between us and we never let that happen.
It was tough at times, but he was just the type of man you couldn't say "no" to or argue with.
While living with him, he taught me so much about life, more than he'll ever know.
He taught me that life is beautiful.
Most people are good.
How to drive a stick shift.
That 7up floats are almost as good as root beer floats.
But most importantly he taught me that a family can be of any dynamic as long as the people truly care about and love each other.
He loved me unconditionally.
Grandpa was there for everything my dad couldn't be -
High school graduation, when I earned my first college degree, even when I got my first speeding ticket (which he wasn't too happy about)...but greatest of all, I was lucky enough to have him walk me down the aisle and give me away on my wedding day.
He then stayed all afternoon when I had my daughter, Sophia. He didn't go home until almost midnight by the time she finally arrived and he got to hold her. And, he was back to see us bright and early the next morning and didn't yawn once.
Grandpa was the person I called first when I was happy or sad, we ate dinner together at least once a week for the past ten years after I graduated high school and moved out.
If I wasn't feeling well, he'd show up with a 7up and crackers for me, even if my husband was home because grandpa just knew Channa wouldn't tend to me like he could.
He was right.
I could go on and on with stories about the way he has impacted my life.
I know I won't ever be as great of a person as he was. He touched so many lives and on his mission of helping others, and he succeeded with more of an impact than we will probably ever really know.
The past few months have been very hard for me.
I am very selfish and wanted him to live forever.
I would have had him live with us until the end of time just so I knew he was safe and happy.
I told him this and his reply were his happy tears and a simple, "I know you would, honey."
The last few days of his life I would sit by his bedside for hours and talk on and on about anything and everything.
I wouldn't come home until late because I know that he would have done the same thing for me.
My daughter has lost her great-grandpa, who got to share a bond these past five years that many people aren't lucky enough to have with their grandparents.
My husband gained a grandfather he never thought he would have had.
I had not only a grandpa, but also a father, a role model, and a friend.
Today marks the longest time in half of my life that I haven't heard his voice, got to hug him, or make him some cookies.
But I am at peace knowing he is with his wife and son again and I get to carry all of his stories, his morals and values, and his sense of being within me.
He and my daughter had a ritual before bed while he stayed with us and in response to the saying...now you get to sleep tight, grandpa. And I'm sure the bed bugs won't bite.
Thank you for your time.
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