Grandpa

Grandpa – written by his granddaughter, Jennie John

How many people can boast that they walked to Florida?  Grandpa could say that he did.  I was what early childhood experts call a difficult tempered infant.   So, to calm me on those many nights of crying, Grandpa walked me and walked me.  As he did, tell me in the calm way that he would walk me to Florida.  As I grew, grandpa continued to go the extra miles for his other grandchildren and me.  He dropped off and picked me up at the PAL field in Bergenfield when I joined cheerleading.  He picked me up countless times at play practice, friend’s homes or babysitting jobs all the way through high school.  At times, his preference for long, windy back roads in would take instead of the highway tested my limited teenage impatience.  As we drove, if the mood struck him, he would tell me long stories about times when he grew up.  Sometimes, we would sit in the driveway and he would just continue to talk.  Even when I would open the door, he would continue his story. 

But driving was not the only way he went the extra miles.  He had an incredible ability to put together anything he thought up.  At the trailer, he rigged up a zip line for us in the yard. You need a bicycle, no problem.  Just pick one up on trash day, and as broken as it looked, he would get it working.  The same could happen with almost any electronic device.  Just a few summers ago, after his cancer had been put into remission for the second time, he decided that the pool needed new and safer steps.  So, each morning of that summer, he would go out when it was still cool enough to work.  He would put an hour or so of work into those steps. Within a few weeks, the pool had lovely, stable new steps.  From those steps I learned a lesson that I hope I always will keep close to my heart.  No matter how hard the goals seems or what you bring to it, conquer it just a bit every day.  Something beautiful will result.  But, you need that endless determination that he processed.  Grandpa would get an idea or a goal in his head and he would not eat or drink, spending hours in his basement workshop in order to see it through. 

When telling a coworker that I would soon be losing my grandfather, she reminded me of how fortunate I am to have had him this long.  Although logically this is true, as my grandmother explained, it is just never enough.  She likened it to that big ice cream sundae from Bischoff’s. Really, you have had enough and you’re full.  But, you just feel the need to take that one more bite.   Grandpa loved so well, that we all wish for just a little bit longer.  And we would not do him justice or give ourselves the chance to feel our grief if we denied the sadness of this time.  But, as I was driving up, I thought, “what a happy homecoming it will be in heaven”. I picture Grandpa meeting his brother, who is holding a beat up old bike or radio to tinker with.  I know in my heart that he is having a just lovely time rigging up all kinds of gadgets in heaven. And when someday, we go home to be with God, I would be honored if he takes the long windy back roads to bring me and those I love most home again.