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 1st
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.
;) Love you punkin!
ReplyDeleteThis is perfect. Beth.
ReplyDelete