There is a place in Central Pennsylvania where the trees are weeping and the mountain itself is sighing. It’s protector, it’s guardian is dead, passed into another realm to be reunited with his lady love, my grandmother, Honey.
Yesterday, my grandfather better known to his family and friends as Popper or Pappa, passed into the Summer land. I am sure that at this moment in time, he is ignoring all the angels instructions, just holding on to my grandmother and kissing her. No matter what happened in their marriage, he always loved her even if he didn’t always like her. They fought, but in the end they always worked things out. Forgiveness was a part of the paradigm that made their marriage work for over fifty years. Not sweating the small stuff was another.
They had known each other since they were in grade school. Everyday, when my grandmother came down the mountain my grandfather was waiting for her. They walked to school and spent the rest of their lives walking hand in hand through diversity, war and heartbreak. They outlived three of their children and watch their son and grandchildren grow into prosperous and independent people.
There are so many stories I could tell you about him and the lasting effects he had on my life, how he touched the lives of all his grandchildren and great grandchildren. I pray in the coming weeks that I will be able to tell those stories with the help of my family. For now, I am taking comfort in the fact that Popper’s life was an excellent example of a life well lived.