It's been 28 days since my last post...

And I am still pretty much at a loss for words. Sure, I have plenty I could say, but really I'm not sure anyone wants to read it. Unless you suffer from insomnia. Then it might be helpful.

So, I'll give a quick run-down of the things I've done in the last 4 weeks...

We had my granddad's funeral May 5th. It was a great an honorable service. He would have been proud. Initially, my dad and his siblings were leaning towards not having the honor guard at the cemetery. I'm glad they changed their minds. I made a video on my digital camera - and as soon as I have time to figure out how to post it, I probably will. I am sure there will be those who feel it's irreverent or inappropriate and that's okay with me. Know why? My grandfather fought in WWII so we have the freedom to disagree.

Each year I travel for work. I visit all of our facilities (30 in 3 states this year) to present our benefits information as well as meet our staff. It's a good break in my norm, and I really enjoy visiting with our employees. So far, I have visited a total of 18 facilities, so I am a little over halfway done. I am spending the next week in the office so I can help with our invoicing, and then it will be off to the races again. The last few weeks of my travels are to our further away locations, so while I visit fewer locations, the travel is still pretty extensive.

On May 24th, my dad presented his testimony to our church. It was an incredible service. In a twist of fate (which for me means by God's ordination), it just so happened that my mom and another member were singing the special song. I had asked my dad if he would ask if I could pray as well, so it was a family affair. I managed to not cry big tears through his testimony until he got to talking about last November. He has been in many dangerous situations for his job(s), but given my age and cognisance of those events, they didn't hit me the way November's shooting did (and still does - since the investigation is ongoing and has yet to go before the grand jury - a formality of course, but one that feels like is DRAGGING!).

This weekend we went to my second cousin's wedding. It was a beautiful ceremony in the Armstrong Browning Library on Baylor's campus (Bryan folks - do y'all remember going on a field trip there? I'm trying to remember what grade we were in), and the reception was in the Roosevelt building downtown. It was elegant and classy and all of those things a girl dreams of for her wedding day. In spite of all of that (or maybe because of it), I pretty much lost it after the cake cutting and couldn't stop the crocodile tears from flowing.

God love my sister though, she took notice and subtly decided it was time for us to go. We did a little convenience store shopping, and hung out at the hot tub with my brother's family for a while. Then the bridal party (the family parts of it anyway) joined us and we had a good time just chatting. All's well that end's well, huh?

Papa

My grandfather passed away on Friday morning. He was gone barely 30 minutes after I left for work. It was a shock, because although he was 92, he was in perfect health. In fact, when my dad called the Dr. to let them know, the Dr. called back because he couldn't believe it. He was staring at the results of bloodwork done on Tuesday and everything was exactly as it should be. Just goes to show, we should never take time for granted because we are not guaranteed our next minute.

Since the grandsons will all be pallbearers, they thought it would be nice to give the granddaughters the chance to speak at the funeral on Tuesday. Following is what I have prepared...


In searching for the perfect thing to read here, I was at a loss. Sure there are plenty of poems and prose available, but they were not right. The sentiment was there, but the words were just too flowery to be what I wanted. Papa was not a flowery man – though he planted them when Granny asked him to. He was a potato, tomato, corn, peas, okra and onions kind of man. He was a cow working, sharpen his own tools kind of man. Poems with flowery words would not do him justice.

Papa lived a life full of stories and if you knew him a minute, you knew he could tell a tale. Visits to their house growing up meant sweet tea as only Granny could make it, soft peppermint candy from the jar in the kitchen, and getting beat at checkers on a homemade board by Papa.

They almost always also included a true – well mostly true, and sometimes completely false story told by Papa. He shared stories from his childhood. Given my mom was from the Tyler area, he often shared driving there with his dad in a Model T Ford to pick up his brother. It was an all day event and as a young child – maybe 8 or 9 years old – Papa would drive part of the way. The memory was so clear to him that he often asked about the brick streets when he retold the story while staying with us.

He told tales of a toothbrush salesman who would give free toothpaste to people as a way to lure them in. Only the toothpaste was not really toothpaste, and after using it, customers always needed a toothbrush. See any of us for the rest of that one. He shared another story about foiling a kidnapper who stopped to barter with him. The man was from Iowa and traveled with a little girl. He built Papa a chest for his sister in exchange for the wood he needed to build his own chest as well. He recounted being struck by lightening and the lifelong impact that had.

His prose took us to Japan with him as he retold his experience of fighting in World War II. One of the most profound stories shared was of the Army receiving excess meat that they were going to have to dispose. Being a man who didn’t waste anything, he asked some of the Japanese ladies if they could use it instead. They were thrilled to receive such a treasure. Not only did he provide sustenance and avoid waste, he showed kindness and compassion to people were victims of the war equal to the Americans being attacked. He had an opportunity to revisit Japan through pictures Kerri sent from her winter trip. The day they arrived, he nearly met me at the door to show me the album and share the story of her visit.

For Papa, the story was not as much abut the topic, as it was the presentation. He his eyes would twinkle and his mouth would shape into his story-telling grin. He practiced emphasis and inflection as well as gestures to make sure the tale was told exactly as it needed to be told. I am grateful for the gift God gave my parents and I to have him in our house the last nine months. It was an honor and a joy to hear his stories one more time.

Papa lived a life of example. He worked hard, valued family, served his country and had an unwavering faith in God. He enjoyed his garden, working cows, any ballgame and Blue Bell ice cream. He taught us to never let anyone win at checkers and to live a life worth retelling.