My Pap

On Saturday morning, I was up having coffee and chatting with a friend that had come for the weekend to help me with my house when my phone rang. I saw the caller ID and I knew. My mother was calling to tell me that my grandfather had passed away early that morning. I had expected this, knew it was coming from conversations earlier that week and still, I found myself crumpling to the floor and sobbing. My mother, who's father this is, was strong and calm and I was crying so hard that I couldn't breath.
I knew this was coming and still there is a hole where his presence always was. He was my Pap jsut as he was Momster's and the many other cousins. I remember being asked, "Are you V's granddaughter?" I spent most of the day in a daze. I tried to function but I felt like my brain was in a fog. I will not be attending the funeral today becuase of the distance I am from my family but that is OK with me. I want to remember him the way I always have. Tall, goofing off, riding snowmobiles, driving the boat at Two Lick, teasing Grandma.
When I saw him earlier this year in the home, he was old, he had shrank down as age and illness took its toll but my image in my mind overlayed this. It was like his spirit was visible. I watched him talk to my daughter as she sat on his lap and I was sad because she will never know him and have the memories that I have.
Pancakes, bacon, egss and ketchup for breakfast every morning. Him sitting in his undershirt, twitching his biceps to make me laugh. He and grandma played cards with my parents many times and he used to hit his knuckles on the table as played a card.
He would try to make chores around the house fun for us. We would rake leaves from the trees into big piles and get it onto the giant tarp he would pull behind the tractor. Then we would all pile onto the tarp also as he put the leaves into the vegetable garden.
Picking potatoes in the fall. Why was this a good memory? Because it was fun, and the weather was cool and dry and it was a family thing.
Snowmobiles and sledriding and family picnics in the giant yard.
The sound his big tractor made is in my memory.

The thing I remember the most is his love for my Grandmother. They grew up and married in an age when visible demonstrations of love were uncommon yet they never failed to show each other how they felt. They got up in the morning at the same time, went to bed at the same time and ate every meal together. They had matching recliners sitting side by side and would often hold hands sitting there. He would do something and she would slap his hand and say, "Oh, V" and he would laugh and then she would to.
I think that their love is what makes this bearable. He is gone from us but they are together again. They are holding hands and teasing each other and leaning over to give a kiss. He is strong and goofy and she is right there to keep him in line.
I will miss them both very much.