october 20

I’ve lived 23 years of life, my whole life thus far, with all four of my grandparents. They’ve always been around. It is my “normal.” This is all I know. I guess I always knew there would come a time when my normal would change. Not only mine, but the rest of the family’s as well.

What a full, long life my Pop Pop lived. As the oldest grandchild, I guess I would remember the most about him. Pictures help corral the memories. He always did build the best fire. He kept that thing burning like no one else could. It was nothing less than perfection. I see him standing in the kitchen, whipping up his famous pound cakes, preparing ambrosia especially for Mamma, and cutting the turkey with the electric knife on the old wooden chopping block. I picture him standing over the fryer in the “playroom” frying chicken for a family meal. You couldn’t leave the house those nights without smelling like grease. I recall his car and desk full of clutter and stacks of papers and yellow note pads. I see where my daddy gets it. I hear his voice, so clearly, telling me, “’Atta girl!” A signature part of my Pop Pop was his “dog bite.” He had a little bump right above his lip where a dog had bitten him when he was young, and we would always have to ask him about it. He was the best wrapper of Christmas gifts. Man, did he love some tape. We could always tell which gifts he wrapped. I can’t ever wrap a present without thinking of him. I remember pulling in their driveway and seeing him on top of the roof putting out the big wooden red sleigh and reindeer. We thought that was the greatest thing ever.

Pop Pop loved for the whole family to be together. It didn’t even matter what we were doing. When I got the call just over a week ago, I knew I had to come. My family is everything to me. This whole week, as hard as it’s been, has been a blessing. All seven grandchildren have been able to be here. We all piled into the room at Hospice, around Pop Pop’s bed, rotating in and out holding his hands. The first couple of days he could still talk, but it was very limited. But you better believe that when we looked at him and told him we loved him, as hard as it was for him to get out, he would answer back, “I love you too, sweetheart.” That’s the Pop Pop I know. Gosh, he loved us. We literally camped out in that room for a week. There was a day later in the week where he had not opened his eyes in quite some time. My cousin and I started singing, and then more of the family came to his bedside and joined us. His eyes suddenly opened and he was looking around at all of us. Was he seeing angels?! He closed his eyes again and relaxed a little more, and that was the first time we told him that it was okay to let go. If he saw Jesus, it was okay to go with Him. We are going to take care of Ma B. We are all going to be fine. We knew that he could hear us, even though he couldn’t always speak. He would often give us little signals to let us know he could hear. Friday night we spent the night filling his room with songs and hymns. We didn’t know it for certain, but I think we all had a feeling that we were saying our last goodbye. I wish I could describe it to you, but I can’t. Words can’t reiterate what was experienced in that room. Maybe some things are just meant to be left in your memory and are just too precious to share. But believe me when I say it was powerful. It was hard. It was tender. It was special. We were only home a few hours when we got the call to return to Hospice. His three children were right there, holding his hands when Jesus took him home. Ma B was with us, because we knew that she needed rest, and that is what Pop Pop would have wanted. So there we were, at 3:30 am, looking at my sweet grandfather, as peaceful as ever. I was overcome, through all the tears, with a rush of joy, and I had to declare that at that very moment, HE IS WITH JESUS!! He is home!! He is doing what we can only imagine doing. He is looking at Jesus face to face! Woah, Heaven became closer to me at that moment.

This has been one of the longest weeks of my life so far. All the days are running together and we are exhausted. But the Lord’s hand has been on it all. I would not trade this time for the world. The Lord allowed us time to grasp the reality that Pop Pop will no longer be with us here on this earth. It really was a gift. And we will see him one day soon. Very soon.

As I’m lying here on the bed in this cozy, packed, love-filled house, I am thankful. I am blessed. I am proud to be a part of this family.