Wednesday, November 10, 2021
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How do you squeeze a man’s life into words?
My Grandpa was resilient.
He was rough and tough because he needed to be but he was warm and kind because that’s who he really was.
He was a German and a good ole Texan and he grew up with dirt floors and a smile on his face, against all odds. He lived through hard times after the Great Depression and nearly 100 years of change in technology and politics, and on Sundays, when I’d call, he’d remind me that no matter how hard things get in life, they will always get better.
My Grandpa was a simple man and virtually the embodyment of the cliche:
When you love what you have, you have everything you need.
He never asked for help and he never complained.
He loved his family. He loved Jesus.
And he loved every day and every minute of his life.
I hope I never forget the sound of his voice-- soft and deep with a country accent I only noticed after moving west.
When I think of him, I see rays of sun pouring through the bows of his willow trees and birds flitting by.
There’s a perfect light breeze and the sun is warm.
It’s springtime and the flowers are starting to bloom.
I close my eyes and I can smell the exhaust of the golf cart my brother and I used to take full-throttle through the yard, tearing up his grass and jumping it over exposed tree roots when he wasn’t looking.
I can hear the chipping of balls and the shuffling of dominoes with John Denver playing softly in the background.
And if I really listen, I can even hear his laugh. And I hope I never forget it.
I will miss this man for the rest of my life.
But I am forever grateful that he was in it.