Papa's Passing

 Sunday morning at 4:51 my Papa died at age 85.

I'm sure that at 4:51 Eastern Daylight Saving Time my Papa heard, "Well done good and faithful servant.  Come enter your Master's happiness." (Matthew 25:21).

How do you put into words the life of a good man?  How do you express to others all that he meant and all that he was?  I'm confident that I cannot meet the task, but I do want to say a few things.

Papa was a grandPARENT.  After we moved back to Iowa when I was in 6th grade I rode the bus to his acreage nearly every day.  He and Mimi took care of my brother, sister and I.  They fed us, helped us with homework and let us treat their home as our home.  They not only took care of us, but they also had foster-children.  They had as many as five at one time, if I remember correctly.  Three of them became my cousins.  So, my grandparents took care of a number of kids each day after school and fed a small army at supper as even my dad would stay after they reassured him that he couldn't be divorced from the family.

It's not often you get to watch your grandparents parent.  But I watched my Papa have a sternness when necessary and gentleness as his default mode.  It was rare to hear him raise his voice but the maybe 5'8" man seemed a great bear to us kids on the rare occasion he needed to.  I remember the first time I watched him parent.  I had not moved back to Iowa but was spending time with them and one of their many favorite foster-children at Hardee's.  The tween boy had a meltdown in the car and I watched how my Papa responded.  Little did I know I would steal that move about 23 years later with my own foster-son.

My Papa was a rock of peace in a sea of chaos.  There's no shortage of drama at times in the family and I can't recall a time when Papa was the source of it.  He was always so reasonable, as I saw it.  He was someone no one could have a quarrel with.  

Papa served his little, country church.  For years in his office he balanced the church checkbook.  He was always the one cheerleading the family out the door to get to service on time.  I enjoyed going to Wednesday night prayer meetings alongside him when I got the chance.  Papa was a faithful churchman.

The cousins might be surprised by this, but I think Papa tricked us all.  "His hair was never to be touched.  No one got to mess with his hair and the contents of his breast pocket protector but me." That's the sentence we all say.  Somehow a score of us probably all believe that he had a soft spot for us and only we got to touch that immaculate hair of his as a young child.  I'm pretty sure we all did and that Papa just loved babies, especially his many grand and great-grandchildren.

From mindless games of Trouble to rides on the lawnmower or tractor, he gave us fun memories as kids.  We all learned that someone can be awoken by the turning of the channel from the news.  We all learned a little about putting hay in the barn.  We all knew that Papa had a special love for us.

And boy was he funny.  I always loved when my Uncle Brad would come.  Brad could get Papa laughing so hard.  I loved Thanksgivings with Uncle Brad because I knew Papa would belt that rich laugh as he enjoyed his son's clowning.  I'm glad those two are back together.  I hope there are those kind of tears in Heaven from rehearsing of old Tim Conway bits.

Papa instilled some great qualities in me as he was not only was my grandpa but helped raise me in some of my most important years.  When the chaos of divorce entered my young life, my Papa was a steady rock of a man.  He's the only one of my grandparents to see my children.  I'm glad that all three of my kids were placed in his lap.  

There are no goodbyes for Christians; only see you laters.  I have more thoughts coming about him but will save those for myself.  That's the beauty of a memory.  So, for now I say, "See you later" and I'll miss you today.