Good-bye for now, Grandpa “Spottie”

The last few weeks have been tough ones for me, as my grandpa passed away on Thursday, February 22nd.  My relationship with my grandparents has always been more than the typical grandparent/grandchild relationship; this incredible couple helped raise my brother and I as children and together we helped each other heal from the tragic death of my mother.  I have been in Salem, where they live, numerous times and sometimes daily over the last several weeks to help with my grandfather’s quickly declining health.  The last few days before his passing I stayed at their place to be with them and was there as he went to heaven.  It was possibly the most heart wrenching thing I have ever done, and yet even in the midst of it I knew I wanted to be nowhere else.  God gave me the strength I needed those days and in the days to come as I helped my uncle prepare and plan his services.

I spoke at my grandpa’s service, and talked about his incredible life.  Grandma and Grandpa were married for nearly 74 years, and were married in the midst of WWII before he was deployed in the Navy.  The life they have lived is an inspiring one to me, and will continue to be.  Here is a portion of what I wrote and spoke yesterday at memorial service.

As a child, Saturdays were my favorite day of the week.  That was the day I spent with Grandma and Grandpa.  They were known to us as Grandma and Grandpa Spottie, named after their dog Spottie.  I’m the only person I know who has named their grandparents after a dog.  I was so blessed to grow up just a few minutes away from my grandparents through age 12 before we moved. I have so many memories of going out to breakfast with them, washing the car with Grandpa (which he did every Saturday), spreading barkdust, trimming shrubs, going on long walks together (often ending in ice cream), swinging on the tire swing he made for us, playing baseball in the yard, making forts in the living room, wrestling on the floor, the list goes on.  My grandpa was even the one to teach me how to ride a bike.  These are such sweet memories, and ones I will always cherish.  When I think about my grandfather, the word present comes to mind.  He was always there, always ready to help.  He knew how to do everything, there was no problem he couldn’t solve and no task that was too complicated.  When my dad needed help cutting down a tree, painting a house, or trouble with plumbing problems we never called a professional – we always called Grandpa Spottie.  He was never too busy for us.  My grandparents were at every ball game we ever played growing up, every performance, and every graduation.

As a little girl, my special place was Grandpa’s lap rocking in one of his chairs.  That was my spot, the place I felt safe and so loved.  I was his little girl’s daughter, and therefore we had an impenetrable bond.  We brought healing and comfort and joy to each other.  He was God’s gift to me and somehow I in turn was a gift to him.

When I was 15 I wrote a poem describing my childhood with my grandparents.  I had forgotten about it, but dug it up in some of the boxes I was going through this week.  One of the lines says this about my grandpa:

Then we’d sit by the fire,

You’d hold me on your lap and stroke my hair.

Words weren’t needed, the message was clear:

You loved me, and that’s all I really wanted or cared for.