Life Lessons from my Best Friend

After the hardest week of my life, I am realizing what a beautiful God I serve. He remains the same always, regardless of life's ugly and trying circumstances. Thankful that life is only a small utterance of eternity.

Many would consider it unorthodox for a 23 year-old and an 81 year-old to be best friends. However, I am a 23 year-old and I recently said goodbye to my best friend. He turned 81 in May. I am honored to call my grandfather, my Pawpaw, my best friend. Best friends make you laugh, they let you cry, and one of my favorites, they just sit with you. My Pawpaw was a pro at all of the above. I am so blessed that from the very beginning of life I had a built-in best friend and boy, did he go above and beyond the call of duty. I know many adored my grandfather, as I do. Unfortunately, I have always been selfish with my Pawpaw and considered him mine. I would like to share a few of my favorite life lessons that I learned from my Pawpaw, those that I cling close to my heart.

1.     Laugh at yourself often: If you were around my Pawpaw for any extended amount of time, either you were laughing or he was laughing, and even more probable, you were both laughing. His laugh is one of my favorite sounds in the world: a deep belly laugh that echoed through any room he entered. One of my favorite laughs erupted one afternoon while my Pawpaw and I were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. Pawpaw had leaned way back in his chair, most likely while I was taking an exceptionally long time deciding between picking up all the cards on the table, probably the wrong decision but one I often chose, or drawing a new, mystery card. As I weighed the advantages of each decision, Pawpaw surely gave me a hard time then, slowly he moved further and further back until “BAM”, he tumbled backwards. Tumble might actually be too graceful; rather, he plopped onto the floor. Before I could even fully comprehend the banging of the steel chair on the ground and figure out how to react, I heard it--the laugh, loud and crisp. We both laughed till tears filled our eyes. We laughed so long that I forgot to help him up until he kindly prompted. Soon after in the same sitting, but probably a new game of Rummy, I couldn’t quite reach the discard pile so I was perched on my knees, reaching for new cards when my chair followed suit and flipped. Of course, as my Pawpaw had done previously, any fear or hurt I felt dissipated, and a laugh crept out. We again laughed, yet this time harder and more enthusiastically than before. In my ten-year-old body, I would not have found it particularly entertaining that my chair flipped over if I hadn’t witnessed my Pawpaw’s reaction to a similar situation moments previous. My Pawpaw and I did this often, laughed at ourselves or one another so much that it became a habit. I am thankful for times I can laugh off the bad and cling to the good, because of his wisdom.

2.     Sandbag when it is necessary and it is always necessary: Most 1^st graders did not learn to count by adding up Black Jack scores and even fewer, elementary students practiced their mathematics skills through Spades and Rummy; yet, this was where so much of my time was spent with my Pawpaw. My Grandpaw was a perfecter of the art of sandbagging. If you are unfamiliar with this art, it is the practice of keeping a whole lot of cards in your hand so your opponent falsely believed he or she was beating you, then unloading all of your cards onto the table in one, fowl sweep. Pawpaw was the master and I fell for it every time. I was a poor sport and often joked he even cheated Sol, his favorite opponent in Solitaire. In another sense though, my Pawpaw taught me you don’t always need all your cards out on the table. My Pawpaw could be a man of vivacious laughter or serious life anecdotes, but he also taught me the importance of learning from my life lessons, remaining observant always, and seeking solace in the quiet. I treasured the moments of stillness I shared with my Pawpaw as much as I did the moments of entertainment. Being still and treasuring what was most important in life was one of the great strengths of my Grandpaw. Whether it was taking time to call those he loved daily or sitting on the front porch counting cars with me, he never confused quiet for boredom. Instead, he taught me remaining content with yourself is a greater virtue than busyness.  

3. Read as many stories as you tell: There are few memories I have of my Grandpaw that don’t involve him reading a book or us talking about books. My Pawpaw is the author of my love story with literature and the reason I chose to be an English major and now, an English teacher. Pawpaw was a voracious reader and went through books like wildfire. He was the wisest man I knew and he had just as many stories of his own to add with the stories from the pages of his books. Listening to my Pawpaw tell stories about his life as a kid or those more rebellious times as a young man, I always smiled at his way with words. He could weave them together as flawlessly as he could whittle a stick. I always wished he would write books of his own to let others hear his stories. 

4. Love hard and fair: My Pawpaw loved a lot of things and a lot of people. To know my Grandpaw, was to love him. He was worrier about the things he loved. Where was I? Was I safe? He wanted everyone to feel loved and at peace with one another. I remember one particular dog he loved, a hyper a Jack Russel that followed him around. He just had a soft heart for things that needed love and I was so thankful that I was one of those things. 

5. Don’t be afraid to let others sit in the driver’s seat: My Pawpaw hasn’t been an official North Carolina driver for quite a few years, but many of my favorite times with him were spent en route. Whether the two of us decided we really needed a slushie and Vienna weenies from the corner store or in the last seven years if I was in the driver’s seat, we were sit on going somewhere and thankfully, it was always together. We spent plenty of time in the cars of others, too. My Pawpaw's kind and equally hilarious comrades constantly had me slamming on my imaginary brakes, as their eyesight had not been as kind to them as Pawpaw's. But my favorite memory of driving, involved a snowy afternoon when Pawpaw trusted me to drive us--on a sled. Pawpaw and I loaded the sled at the top of a substantial hill in our backyard. This story is already incredible that my Pawpaw was allowing a young me to steer him on a sled. We moved faster and faster and my excitement must have overcome my ability of maneuver and straight into a tree we ran. Pawpaw chuckled and we got up and shook off the snow. My Grandpaw still teased me about my driving skills that day, but I think stories like this one remind me how willing my Pawpaw was to trust me. He allowed me to make decisions well before others did and trusted they would be the right ones. He often showered others with praise and I always knew I was making at least one person proud, no matter what. My Pawpaw was okay with others leading, but he taught me to know when not to follow and most importantly, to enjoy whatever ride we were taking.

Pawpaw, I imagine you are playing cards with gold chips, reading the greatest and largest novels ever written, and every time I hear thunder I will assume it is just the angels laughing heartily after hearing one of your stories. You were with me from the beginning and will remain with me always.