I find myself, yet again, at a complete loss. Not only of words, but quite possibly of mind. How can one endure the loss of 2 grandfathers exactly one month apart, almost to the hour? How can one grasp the pain that is these 2 forces of nature being gone from this earth? How? How can I simply tell stories of these 2 men to my children and do them justice?
My Papaw, Ralph F. Watkins, was a man's man. He loved to work with his hands...the smell of wood nearly always preceded his entrance. He loved to talk about WWII and was extremely proud of his service in the Navy. He loved his independence and that he could still build things just out of an idea in his head. He was sharp. He was quick. He was Papaw. So much of a Papaw that in birthday and Father's Day cards I had to scratch out whatever other term for grandfather used and write his specific title. He was a lover of early mornings, breakfasts, coffee, and if they didn't kick him out, the Waffle House. I have been to many a Waffle House with him, and no matter if he'd been there before, he's strike up a conversation with someone, anyone, within seconds. He was quick to make a buddy, someone to tell tales of old or just discuss the weather. More than anything, after nearly 7 years apart, I love that he still talked to folks about Bet, my precious Granny.
They had known each other since they were 5, married 60 years. About as opposite as you could get, really, but as complimentary, too. My Granny...sweet, friendly, kind, patient, and my Papaw...friendly, cantankerous, full of stories. I will miss calling him and hearing, "Y'ELLO!" or walking in and seeing him smile and say, "hello, darlin'!" I will miss the smell of him, that crazy finger he cut off years ago and still babied, how he could watch a Western like he'd never seen it, his boot stocking at Christmas. While our relationship was not as close as I would have liked these past few years, I hope he knows how loved he was and how precious my memories are with him. We lived in the same town, but for one reason or another--either craziness of home life or him just being out and about--, didn't see each other a whole lot. I knew it. I called myself on it. But because he was as awnry as they come, I thought he would always be around and outlive us all. Silly me. My memories as a little girl consist of chickens, turkeys, our sweet pieces of small furniture he'd make himself, being amazed by the houses he could design, and a diary full of excitement like, "going to see Granny and Papaw tomorrow! yesssss!", "this weekend at Granny and Papaw's YAY!"...the joy of seeing and spending time with grandparents, and not knowing that they will ever have to leave you. Good ol' days, indeed.
I said it a month ago, and I will say it again today. I know I've been blessed. Not by simply having my grandparents as long as I have, but by who they were as people. My grandpa, giving and wonderful; my granny, loving and kind; my Papaw, open and hard-working. I now pray, pray, pray my Grandma lives to 1000. I can't eat a bologna sandwich without thinking of him. I can't see boots and not think of him. I can't close my eyes today and not hear him clear his throat and imagine his walk, jingling the change in his pocket. With Papaw, it's not so much big things I will remember...but little things. Enjoying a good meal, seeing him love Colt but not dare hold him when he was little, hearing him remember Gran with love in his voice. I'm so thankful they are together now.
I don't know exactly what heaven looks like, I don't know how earthly relationships appear in heaven. What I do know is that my Granny was excited when she saw him, smiling that squinched smile of her's as if she had a secret. I know he is experiencing happiness like he has never known here on earth, and a peace that surpasses all of our sad understanding. I know that because we are children in Christ, that my last time seeing him....of seeing him and knowing he was in his final hours...was not my last time seeing him. He will greet me again, with a rowdy "Y'ELLO!" and probably up on a tractor.
My sadness, my grief, my shattered heart are being held by my Maker's hands. My mom, who is now without her earthly parents, is being cradled by the one who knit her together. My God, my God...even in the depths of my sorrow, I know loves me and acknowledges my pain. I know he catches my tears. This horrible part of life will not conquer all. Death is not the end.
Papaw...I love you more than I can say. I thank you for the example that is your marriage and how it survived and thrived. Thank you for letting mom marry dad, even though it's legendary how hard that was for you. My memories are great, you are loved and missed.
Love, Moni
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