For some people words don't flow as freely from our mouths as they do from our typing fingers. I am one of those people. If you were to see me right now, you would see me sitting silently in my cluttered home surrounded by chores I need to get done. I am actually staring at a dusty window sill in between sentences. My mouth can't form any words. My husband came in and out of the room on his way to the theater and I couldn't give him more than a nod that I would indeed send him a shopping list on his way home. My tongue is a dead weight in my mouth. And yet my heart has so much to say. The words can not stay in them. Their only escape is through my keyboard. The words know not whom their audience will be. Nor do they care. They escape to make the heart beat. To make it live. To remind the heart of a great love it had and always will have.
From the stories I have heard, my grandfather was raised by a single mother who was a Polish immigrant. He never knew his father. You would never know that he didn't have a father figure in his life. Not by the man he became.
He left college and his football scholarship behind when he learned his mother was sick. He went home to take care of her.
Later he became a Chicago Police officer and married my grandmother. He usually worked two part time jobs in addition to his full time career to make ends meet.
My parents were young and down on their luck when I was little (about 4-5). My grandpa showed up to our house every week to bring us groceries. He called himself the cookie man. "Cookie man is here!" he would shout as my sister and I would come running for the goodies.
He was the type of grandpa that would get down on his hands and knees and play with us. When we got cranky he would sing "Time to go take a nap! Keri needs a nap!" When we would get scared over seeing a bug he would say "That's my friend Oscar! Be nice to Oscar!"
He used to call me his buddy. He called all of his grandchildren and children his buddies. I loved being his buddy.
When I was seven my grandparents moved to Florida to take care of my grandmother's mother. My parents would take us there once, sometimes twice, a year to visit. Grandpa would pull out all the stops. They had a pool in their backyard. When my grandpa got back from work he would surprise us by coming out his bathroom door which led to the deck of the pool and jump straight in the water. He would splash us and stick his tongue out at us. His favorite saying was "you need to get a new face." Every year we would show up and he would say "you didn't get a new face yet??"
He had a movie room filled with hundreds and hundreds of VHS tapes. All of them were numbered and he had a typed, numbered list of every title. He always made sure to have plenty of kids movies available.
I found out when I was older that every trip to Disney World was paid for by my grandpa. My parents would try to pay, but he wouldn't let them. We went to Disney every time we would visit. Grandpa would go on every ride with us. He would buy us a Mickey Mouse ice cream and a Mickey Mouse balloon. Once I even got a Minnie Mouse watch. That was special. I wore it all the time.
Grandpa would buy children's bicycles to leave in his garage for our visits. He made sure the tires were inflated, the chains were oiled, and the bikes were shiny and clean. You could tell he took pride in making sure we had all we needed for our visits.
When I was young, I used to send my grandparents letters in the mail. I would write silly things like any six or seven year old would. A few years ago my mom and aunts cleared out my grandparents home and my mom found every letter I ever sent. I can't believe he kept them.
Every year I would get a card in the mail for my birthday. I always thought they were in my grandma's handwriting. I found out later that every card was bought, signed, and sent by my grandpa. He was just that kind of guy.
My grandpa never knew a stranger either. He would make friends with someone wherever we would go. He would have every grocery store clerk, waitress, or waiter laughing along with him within a few moments of meeting them.
When I was 18, my grandparents moved back to Indiana. Shortly after, I got married and moved to Texas. I had to travel on my own since my husband was in military training. My grandfather said he would help me. He and my grandmother drove all the way to Texas with my dad and me. They followed us in their car. We had walkie talkies to communicate (in the days before cell phones) and I remember him radioing in "Grandma needs a stop!" and off we would go to Cracker Barrel. After all, Cracker Barrel is the only decent place to use the restroom according to grandma. He was so patient with her.
When we got to our destination, he happily went to the store to buy me everything that my grandmother insisted that I needed. A new duvet, a robe for the winter, a special insecticide to ward off the cockroaches that were sure to show up in the south.
After I had my first child, Natalie, I came back to visit my family. I remember grandpa getting on the floor to crawl after her. He would say "Peek a boo!" and she would laugh. When she got cranky he would make a sad face at her and she would cry and he would say "you don't like this ugly guy's face, huh?"
I had many visits with my grandparents over the years. I remember the coffee cakes that they would always bring with them. Grandpa loved crumb cakes and coffee.
I remember when I lived far away and I would try to call him he always had a hard time hearing me and he never wanted me to waste my money. He would always say "well I should let you go so you don't spend all your money!"
The last time I saw him, or will ever see him, was almost two years ago. I promised myself that I would go visit him once a month. But, you know, life got in the way. Everything is always so busy, and I just never made it back to see him again. He had been living in the Dallas area in a nursing home. I took the girls with me. I'm glad Gwen and Jada got to meet him. He really didn't understand who they were, but he remembered me and I was glad. He was sad that he was living on his own. He wanted to leave, and I don't think he understood that he couldn't. He made jokes the whole time of course. "I'm the funniest man I know and if you don't believe me ask me." When we left, I gave him a big hug and told him I loved him. He wanted to walk us to the door, but he couldn't find it. The residents aren't supposed to know where the door is because then they try to leave and they get confused. But grandpa insisted on walking me out, so the caretaker let him. He stood and waved as we walked to the car. I'll never forget that.
He took his last breath a few hours ago. It helps to know that at the very moment I was in church with my arms raised and praising my savior my grandpa was coming into His presence. Whenever I praise God I feel that I am stepping into eternity. Its the closest we can come on Earth to understanding eternity. I step into singing about God and I feel my past recalled to my mind. Every moment I have ever sang to God from the time I was little to the present time stands before my mind's eye. I can see the Catholic church I would praise in with its stained glass windows and cross. I can see the church in Cedar Lake, in York, England, the churches in San Antonio, etc. In every place I have ever been, the One I sing to has stayed the same. Because of this, in those moments of praise I can feel the past, present, and future come together as one.
Eternity.
No beginning and no end. Sometimes eternity sounds scary. You might think "how am I going to want to be with God and be good all the time. Thats boring" but I think that eternity can be found in those moments that we wish we could go back to. For instance, I wish I could spend just one more afternoon with grandpa in Disney World. But I can't. But in eternity, those moments that we wish we could go back to would be never ending. They stretch on forever.
Several years ago my mother had a conversation with my grandpa about eternity. She asked him if he knew where he would go when he dies. He wasn't sure. She told him the good news about God-- that he sent his son Jesus to die on the cross for the sins of all humanity. That it was done as a gift and can not be earned. She explained that all he had to do was believe with his heart and confess with his mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord. He did at that very moment.
So I know where he is now. I know that he is in eternity. The eternity that stretches on in both directions forever. Every good moment that will never end. No more goodbyes.
One day I will be there too. And he and I will never have to say "Bye buddy" again. But for now my heart bids my bestest buddy farewell. Thanks for loving me my whole life. Thanks for always being there for me. I will take a part of you with me. I will try to emulate all of your good qualities. Forever the family man through and through, you worked hard for us all. I'm so proud that I was born into your family.
Love always, your first-born granddaughter,
Keri
