A Tribute
If he had lived, my grandfather would have turned 102 today. For some reason, I have always remembered his birthday, even when I can't recall those of my in-laws. (Shame on me.) Grandpa died when he was 96 (I believe), and up until the last few years of his life, he was active and healthy.
Grandpa grew up with an abusive father (perhaps some would simply call him old school), played football, and graduated from high school at a time when that was quite an accomplishment. He left Kansas after high school, setting off for the big city of Chicago, where he got a job as a janitor at the Martin-Senour paint company. I believe he went to night school, and soon worked his way up to accountant. When he retired, he was company treasurer. Not bad for a boy from the sticks!
My grandparents had two children: my mom, Kathy, and her brother, Bill, who died in his teens. Although not a man of many words, and not lavish with his praise, he was thrilled with my mom's musical accomplishments. Several years before his death, he helped our family purchase a new piano so that my two girls could further their musical abilities.
Grandpa loved to play golf, and he did so until his legs began giving him a lot of trouble due to spinal stenosis. He even hit a hole-in-one once! He followed all the great golfers, and talked about them whenever he could.
We were blessed to have Grandpa move to our hometown some years before he died. I wish I had spent more time with him, but I treasure the dinners we shared while he lived in a retirement center about 1/2 hour away. That place knew how to plan and serve a fabulous meal, and it cost our family mere pennies to eat with him.
I still remember the day he died. My parents had been away on vacation, and were scheduled to return that day. I awoke to find a message on my answering machine from the nursing home where we had moved Grandpa when it became apparent he could not live alone, asking me to call. I did, and they informed me that he had simply dropped dead in front of the nurse, whom he had gone to see after breakfast because he was feeling "strange." In my shock, I managed to get the needed information, and immediately called my husband, who made arrangements to come home. For some reason, my parents decided to stop at our house on their way home (which they've never done since), and I had the very difficult job of telling them that Grandpa was gone. Apart from learning my husband has incurable cancer, that's probably the most difficult thing I've had to deal with in my 47 years.
During a visit Phil and I had with Grandpa in the last six months of his life, Phil asked him if he knew where he would spend eternity. Grandpa answered that he had made that decision early in his life. Although we didn't get any further information from him, my deepest desire is that he had trusted in Jesus Christ for his salvation and that I will one day see him again.
Happy birthday, Grandpa.
Grandpa grew up with an abusive father (perhaps some would simply call him old school), played football, and graduated from high school at a time when that was quite an accomplishment. He left Kansas after high school, setting off for the big city of Chicago, where he got a job as a janitor at the Martin-Senour paint company. I believe he went to night school, and soon worked his way up to accountant. When he retired, he was company treasurer. Not bad for a boy from the sticks!
My grandparents had two children: my mom, Kathy, and her brother, Bill, who died in his teens. Although not a man of many words, and not lavish with his praise, he was thrilled with my mom's musical accomplishments. Several years before his death, he helped our family purchase a new piano so that my two girls could further their musical abilities.
Grandpa loved to play golf, and he did so until his legs began giving him a lot of trouble due to spinal stenosis. He even hit a hole-in-one once! He followed all the great golfers, and talked about them whenever he could.
We were blessed to have Grandpa move to our hometown some years before he died. I wish I had spent more time with him, but I treasure the dinners we shared while he lived in a retirement center about 1/2 hour away. That place knew how to plan and serve a fabulous meal, and it cost our family mere pennies to eat with him.
I still remember the day he died. My parents had been away on vacation, and were scheduled to return that day. I awoke to find a message on my answering machine from the nursing home where we had moved Grandpa when it became apparent he could not live alone, asking me to call. I did, and they informed me that he had simply dropped dead in front of the nurse, whom he had gone to see after breakfast because he was feeling "strange." In my shock, I managed to get the needed information, and immediately called my husband, who made arrangements to come home. For some reason, my parents decided to stop at our house on their way home (which they've never done since), and I had the very difficult job of telling them that Grandpa was gone. Apart from learning my husband has incurable cancer, that's probably the most difficult thing I've had to deal with in my 47 years.
During a visit Phil and I had with Grandpa in the last six months of his life, Phil asked him if he knew where he would spend eternity. Grandpa answered that he had made that decision early in his life. Although we didn't get any further information from him, my deepest desire is that he had trusted in Jesus Christ for his salvation and that I will one day see him again.
Happy birthday, Grandpa.
Labels: Grandpa G.
posted by Ginny @ 10:24 PM
1 Comments:
At March 13, 2008 at 10:15 PM ,
J-ME said...
What a nice tribute to your grandfather. It brought back special memories of mine. We were always very close. For the first 5 years of my life, he was the only father figure I had. He died on my 21st birthday which was difficult for me. There was so much I had hoped to share with him. Thanks for sharing your memories.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home