My Pap Pap and me

I needed Kleenex for this one.  Just saying.  You've been warned. I think Pap would have told you that before reading.  Tell it like it is.  Well...this one is going to be sad.  Happy too. But also sad.

We go way back. Me and my grandpa. In fact I don't have many childhood memories without him in them...and a majority of my adult ones include him too. Since that day he met me all those years ago, I've had the pleasure of spending my first 30 years of life under his love and care.

Somewhere along the way we began calling him Pap. He also answered to Pappy, Pap Pap and even hey grouchy old man...listen to what I'm saying to you! He called me Jessica. Always Jessica. Or sugar. And my boys? They were dandies. And he lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw them. He got on me when I didn't have a coat...or if he thought I was getting too skinny. He told it like it was. Even if you didn't like what he had to say. He even told my brother more than once when we spent the night that the stuffed pheasant that hung above his bed would swoop down and get him if he didn't stop talking so much and go to sleep. This past Christmas he told Jer...Jeremy...Have you gained some weight?? Yep.  That was Pap.  And I'll never forget...the day I had Cooper, he stood over my bed and said, "Ok. He's here and healthy. Now can you just be done? Pap Pap doesn't like worrying about you like this." He had a big, soft heart and he teared up any time he talked about anything remotely sentimental.

There are so many things I want to remember forever about him. His guitar and harmonica playing, the sound of his voice. But there are far too many to list them all here. And I'm struggling with emotions about how losing someone and learning to deal with death in general changes us all as people.  But one thing I'm sure of...even now, one day after his death, is that my life is immensely better for having known him.  He supported, loved and cheered me on in every phase of my life. And I'm thankful for every small and big memory I have left to carry with me.

This morning I thought of him as I sipped my coffee...and this vividly clear memory of him leaving our house one afternoon came flooding back. He came over to pick up some soup I had made. It wasn't quite done yet, but he came over early anyway just to visit. He stood over my stove and helped me unpack sliced cheese...and waited. While it melted and simmered, we talked. I don't even remember what we talked about.  But after I packed up the soup we stood in the breezeway for a few minutes more chatting and saying goodbye.  When he left he said "Well Pap Pap will see you sugar." He kissed me on the cheek, brushing me with his scruffy chin...and then he put up his hand in that single, almost salute-like wave. Then he took off out my door in his flannel shirt and that teal zip up hoodie with that classic Pap gate in his walk. He hopped in his truck and left, honking on the way down the drive.

Whether God wanted me to remember that or Pap put that memory there to help me say goodbye...it left me thinking the following:

Well, we'll see you Pap Pap. If you were here I'd kiss your your scruffy cheeks and take your hand in mine and get a big bear hug...soak in the smell of Old Spice and breathe in things I took for granted for all these years because they've been there for so long.  But now it's time to put them in the memory bank and cherish every single one, sad or happy as they make me.  So instead I'll blow you a kiss. Up there to the clouds. Wherever you are now...I know there's lots peace and rest for your tired old bones and body that fought so hard to keep you with us for as long possible. Oh and I'm betting there is butter pecan ice cream, coffee and all the comfort food you can stand.   I love you so very much. And I imagine a part of me will miss you for the rest of my life. Thanks for all the amazing memories and for being my Grandpa. It has been an honor.

Love,
Your Sugar, Jessica