On March 21st, my dad called me to tell me that my grandpa had a stroke. The doctors had to perform brain surgery, but his body was just not strong enough to recover. After a hard couple of weeks, my mom and aunt decided to remove him from life support. He passed away early in the morning on April 3rd. He had been healthy and independent before this. In fact, when he realized he was having a stroke, he called his part time job to let them know that he wouldn't be making it in before calling an ambulance.
He was an amazing man with an outstanding legacy. I felt very led to speak at his funeral. This is not my most eloquent writing, produced after hours of thinking and a few minutes of scribbling in a hotel room. But it is raw, and exactly what I said.
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April 5th, 2014
When I was a little girl, there was no day more exciting than when we got to see mamaw and papaw. I normally didn't sleep the night before, and often made myself sick with anticipation. Mamaw was full of spirit and silliness and games. But Papaw, he was full of lessons. His first lesson: how to perfectly place the bird food and peanuts to attract birds and squirrels to the deck. He would tell me each name, from Blue Jays to Cardinals, and create stories for every squirrel. His next lesson: how to pull a baby tooth. He could tell when each of my teeth was ready to come out, and the tooth fairy always gave a little extra when he was in town. As I grow older, I decided I wanted to be a cook. Grandpa and I would talk often about Sarah Molten and Rachel Ray, and he taught me how to grow and prepare all of my own ingredients. I have abandoned most of my culinary aspirations, but I know how to perfectly grill corn, chop basil, and choose ripe tomatoes. Most know my grandpa had a temper, and though I hated to be on the receiving end of his criticism, I never felt more loved and protected than when he came to my defense. When I felt insecure about my freckles and pale skin, he'd sing me silly songs and remind me that I look so much like my mother and grandmother, two women he found exceedingly beautiful. When I went to college, he was proud of my education, but reminded me that knowing about the world was not the same as contributing to it. But it wasn't until I met my husband that I understood the lesson he had been teaching me my whole life. As I stood up and made my wedding vows, I realized I had seen the most perfect example of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health." My grandmother was a fierce force, and my grandpa loved every piece of her, even when she drove him crazy. When she got sick and didn't know who we were, he never abandoned her. Instead, he filled the house with pictures, called us to talk to her on every good day, and told her he loved her each night. I will be a very lucky woman if my husband looks at me the way my grandpa looked at my grandma until her last day. The last time I saw my grandpa was my wedding day. I didn't know it was the last time, but I will always treasure eating breakfast next to him, asking him if he thought grandma would like my dress, and watching him dance with my mom. When mom told me grandpa wasn't going to wake up, I thought his lessons were done; his time had passed. But Thursday, as we drove from Memphis, I learned the last lesson: It's never too late. You see, my grandpa did not attend church in his adult life. It wasn't until a few months ago, when an attractive woman invited him along, that he ventured in. On Thursday, we learned from the pastor of his church that he had accepted his salvation. Now, along with all the lessons he taught me, I get to live with the joy and hope that I will get to rejoice alongside my grandfather for all eternity. And really, no grief I feel now will ever penetrate that amazing promise. So thank you, papaw, for all the lessons, and I can't wait to see you again in heaven.
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Thank you so much for all the love and prayers. My family is still recovering from the sudden loss, but we can rest in the knowledge that he did not spend years, or even months, suffering and that we will all see him again.
Kylie, this is so beautiful now and when I first heard you read it at the funeral. It always brings me to tears. I didn't know Uncle Bob like you had but he was a real joy to Steve and I. He and Toni always were a constant source of help to see George when he had his stroke. Uncle Bob would be so proud of you! God bless you!
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