My Papa...

Today I said goodbye to the first man I ever loved...my Papa. I can only imagine the look on his face when he opened his pale blue eyes outside the pearly gates of heaven this morning. I wonder if he smiled that smirky grin and danced a jig at the feet of our Heavenly Father. Oh how I wish I could have seen a glimpse of that moment. The moment he traded in his 89 year old body for a new and improved model. I am sure it was a sight to behold.

My Papa was, in many ways, like my Father. He has been the one consistent man in my life for nearly 32 years. The one who called me honey-bebe my entire life. As a child, Papa made sure I was at church every time they opened the door. He's the one who made me get up at the crack of dawn on Sunday so we could pick up half the kids in town on the church bus. Oh, that darn church bus. I hated riding that bus every week but at this moment those days are some of my fondest memories of him. Years later on my wedding day he gave me away to the love of my life. He was proud of that moment and so was I. He loved my husband and knew he was "a keeper" (as he called him shortly before we married). Yes, he certainly was (and still is today).

He was married almost 62 years to my Meme. They weren't the ooey gooey in love kind but they were dedicated to the vows they took the day after her 18th birthday...for better or worse. In recent years Meme's Alzheimers has robbed her of her memory but she has never forgotten the young and handsome Papa she married all those years ago. Please pray specifically for her today. She is understandably heart broken.

He wasn't a fancy man by any stretch but he would have given the proverbial "shirt off his back" to almost anyone who needed it more than he did. That was my Papa. He was a collector of just about anything. I repeat, ANYTHING. He ran his own version of Lowes from his home. If Lowes didn't want or need it anymore, well, Papa did. If anyone wants to call A&E, I'm certain we would make a great version of Hoarders: the Building Supply Edition. What is it they say? One mans trash is another man's treasure? That was my Papa. :-)

My Papa taught me that education was the key to my success. No one was prouder than Papa the day Dr. Sauls pinned my nursing pin on my lapel. It was a moment he had waited my entire life to witness--the first in his family to graduate from college.

A World War II veteran, he loved to tell war stories to anyone who would listen. At this moment I wish I had listened a little more intently to those WWII stories. I'll never hear them again this side of heaven and for that I am a little sad.

On any random day (or night) you would find the TV blaring CNN. This man loved that channel because he LOVED politics. With a capital L! I always told him he loved anyone with a little (R) beside their name. That always made him chuckle. The man was a Republican with a capital R and he could solve all the problems of our great nation in a one hour visit. :-) That was just my Papa. He had an answer for everything and his answer was never wrong. Ever.

My Papa loved the Big Orange. If you are from our neck of the woods you know what I'm talkin' about. When I was a kid I always thought it silly when he said, "we bleed orange around here". Every time I hear someone say that line I think of him. I guess I always will.

He was quirky and he had his ways about him. Some I understood. Some...well...I did NOT understand but I think that's what kept things interesting. We didn't always agree. He liked to push my buttons and I always fell head first into his little "trap". I guess that's what you get when you put two passionate people in the same room. I think he just liked to debate for the sake of debating. :-) Countless conversations ended with "we'll have to agree to disagree" and that was that. My Mom has always said we are a lot alike. I have always argued my way out of that one but at this moment I'll gladly agree. He was a man who loved God and loved people. In that respect, I pray that on any given day someone who knows me well can say the same about me.

He was the one I had the most reservations about with Mei Mei's adoption. Truth be told he had many hurtful things to say about it beforehand. Thankfully I have witnessed first hand what God can do to a stubborn heart tainted by a lifetime of prejudice. I watched my baby girl, who was scared of most everyone and everything at the time, snuggle up in his lap. He was a goner from that moment on--his heart changed in an instant. If you don't believe God can change someone's heart, let an 18 month old Chinese baby snuggle with an 89 year old great grandfather. He did and I am so incredibly thankful God gave me that moment. He called her "my little black eyed Susie". It was a term of endearment to him so I let it be. His little black eyed Susie it was.

I am thankful he is no longer suffering. After six months of illness that is an answer to prayer. Knowing I'll walk into their house and his chair will be empty. Knowing my Meme and Mother are beyond brokenhearted. It's still hard to say goodbye to someone you love. Then I am reminded of what I know to be true. I remember the man with a tattered Bible that sat beside his chair when it wasn't opened in his lap. I remember a man who loved to help people when, by the worlds standards, he himself could have used a helping hand. I remember the man known to my children as "Meme's Papa". The man who loved to see their smiling faces every time we walked through the door.

I loved my sweet Papa more than words can express yet I know this is not the end. Someday, when my time comes, I'll be standing at the gate looking for the blue eyed man wearing a hat and holding a fishing pole. I know he'll be there waiting.

Love,
Honey-bebe