Dear Papa,
All week I've been meaning to write a blog about Happiness. You know, last Wednesday, March 20, 2013, was International Day of Happiness. It filled me with joy knowing you were still here to celebrate and spread your warmth, and that huge heart you have to others. At school, I had my students finish the sentence "I'm super happy today because..." to which several responded, "...because God gave me one more day of life." Insightful.
I'm sure last Wednesday, as you sat in your chair, watching television next to grandma, surrounded by so many grandkids and family members, you were doing the same. Silently observing, smiling on the inside, thinking wise thoughts and shaking your head at all the interesting Spring break conversations that must have been filling that Arizona living room. I'm bummed I couldn't be there, but content knowing you spent your last days surrounded by happiness and an abundance of love.
As I sat down to write trying to think of a title for this post, this quote, brought to you by a fifth grader from South Boston seemed to fit perfectly - "Always be hopeful, sing and story tell." It seems to encompass you. You were always filled with determination and hope. Always had a positive outlook on life and love. And the story telling, you were a great story teller. The stories, I will miss dearly but hold onto the memories you've created for me.
In the next few paragraphs, I want to remember you! I want the world to feel the HAPPINESS you've shown to your grandchildren, great grandchildren, brothers, sisters, and most importantly your wife and children, who were so lucky to have felt your love. It's going to be a hopeful post, filled with story telling and life lessons I will carry with me. After reading it, from above, I hope you feel the rhythm that you've left upon all of us.
I. A Story Teller
I want to start by going back to my sixth grade year when I was asked to do a report on a person who lived through The Great Depression and World War II. I remember hopping in the car, driving 30 seconds over the hill, my little knapsack on, filled with excitement, ready to interview my grandpa. For some reason when you're twelve, age and time periods make no sense. I went into the interview thinking you were about 30, during The Great Depression and had spent days rationing food and struggling to survive, when in reality you were about two. You took it with ease and made the most of my interview, telling me stories about your parents and the struggles they faced. How they rationed and the war. You were very honest about not remembering anything about it and still helped me write a kick-butt paper. As a child, for how shy I was, you were excellent at embracing me and making me feel loved. That evening has stuck with me to this day. Your gentleness has carried through into my life and has been a symbol for who I want to become. I also left that night, understanding why us grandchildren were never allowed to leave the table until we licked our plate clean. When times are tough, like during the Great Depression, we can't be wasting food.
II. A Hopeful Fighter
Your positive outlook on life and work ethic is another facet you've shown to all of your grandchildren. Given a hammer and a nail and you could fix anything from a hole in the wall to a Dippin' Dot machine. (Not many people can say they have touched a Dippin' Dot machine, much less operated one). And with ease. I remember being a kid and watching you make those Dippin' Dots. The thousands of little ice cream balls would flow out of the machine and drop into bucket after bucket. For long hours, through hot summers, you would work, never once complaining. You definitely were an expert.
Aside from that, there were stories upon stories about milking cows, the red barn, waking up at the crack of dawn to bale hay and complete the farm chores. Things we could only imagine you doing. But again, never once complaining. Your kids may have had some complaints along the way, but we'll let them off the hook this time :)
You were a fighter. For the entirety of your life. Being diagnosed and living with Parkinson's Disease for the last ten years is a perfect example. Slowly watching the disease run it's course also assisted me in realizing so many things about my own life; never take any day for granted. On my run yesterday Papa, I was thinking about you. (I'm actually running a half-marathon in honor of YOU - June 2nd, you better be next to me cheering me on. I'm going to need it.) All I could think about yesterday though, when I wanted to quit, was your strength and your will to keep waking up, hopping on that bike and doing those exercises to fight Parkinson's Disease. I kept my feet moving and put one foot in front of the other and I finished my 10K. All for you! Because while you taught me many lessons... add FIGHTER to the list. You taught me to never give up, to never complain, and to make the most of any situation.
III. A Great Man
The best lesson I've learned from you is to LOVE everyone. As I said in my Facebook post yesterday... "You're the rock, the glue and now the Angel who's watching over us all. WE LOVE YOU PAPA!! Rest in Peace." I meant every word. Our family is close. Real close. I contribute much of it to you and your peacefulness. You are the glue. You are the rock. You have been there for weddings, babies, accidents, feuds and through it all you have wrapped that big smile (see above) around everyone.
We received a message from your nephew yesterday and he could not have said it better, so I'm going to share it...
"I have nothing but really nice memories of Al - even when I had to help bale hay as a kid! (how unfair - I had to bale hay and we didn't have a fancy above ground pool!)
He was incredibly soft natured, and had a kind gentle way about him - in the few times I got to see him over the past years.
I like to think that we can gauge the value of our life by who shows up at our funeral and the words that people say about us after we are gone. I have no doubt you will hear my thoughts echoed 1000 times in the next few days."
Papa, he is so right! You exuded love. You exuded passion in all that you did. I received messages, texts, facebook posts, and emails from people I haven't spoken to in years, sending messages of love and more stories about a man who made an impact in their life. YOU. Right up to that last breath you took on Friday night, you had people smiling, laughing, praying, hoping and becoming better people because of you.
You truly are a GREAT MAN. A respectable man. An honest man. And the best GRANDPA a girl could ask for.
I love you Papa. Keep that smile glowing. And have fun walking, running and dancing again up there in heaven. You deserve it!
Xoxoxo,
Abby
