I Knew You'd Come
I miss my grandfather. He died eleven years ago, and this morning when I woke up, it felt like yesterday. As I type this, the tears are still flowing.
I wish you all could have met him. It is my hope that everyone in this world has someone like him in their lives. My childhood, like everyone's, wasn't an easy one. I imagine it is difficult for any soul to arrive here on earth, perfect and full of light, only to be told by the world that something is wrong with them. We're told we're good if our actions please another, and we're bad if they don't.
My grandfather, or "Papaw" as I called him, was the one person who really saw me. It didn't matter what my behavior was- I always looked the same in his eyes. I was always innocent, loving, and pure. While my other family members were coming and going in my life- due to marital separation, suicide attempts, and simply closing themselves off, he was always there. Every day after school, his old blue truck was waiting in the driveway. He always met me with a "bear hug" and an ear-to-ear grin. He would hide sticks of gum in one of his shirt pockets, and I had to guess which one held my treat.
I knew Papaw for fourteen years. In that time, I tried to get in as much time with him as I could. No matter what was going on in my life, it all disappeared when he pushed me in the swing under the old oak tree in his front yard. I loved to twist the ropes around and around until they sent me spinning, and Papaw would laugh at me, saying "You're as drunk as a skunk!" A side of him that he didn't dare show anyone else would come out in the silly songs he made up to make me laugh as we drove down country roads. Our favorite thing to do together was to fish in one of the ponds around his farm. He thought he was teaching me to fish, but I was learning so much more. I was learning the meaning of unconditional love.
Papaw was at the end of his life when I was just beginning mine. When I was eleven, I noticed him growing tired more easily. He would fall asleep in his big, comfy chair, and I would crawl into his lap. His big arms would wrap around me and hold me while he slept.
I'll never forget when I realized he was dying. My brother and I were spending time at his house, and my brother was on his way out to church. He stopped in the kitchen to remind my grandmother to call 9-1-1 if anything happened to Papaw. I was shaking when I pulled up a chair next to him. There was a lump in my throat when I, worried about his life after death, asked "Papaw, do you know God?" He replied, "Lindsay, I know God because I know you."
A few days later, the call came. On the way to the hospital, I silently prayed that I wouldn't be too late. I walked in to see him, pale and weak, in the sterile hospital bed. He wasn't smiling, he didn't look strong like I remembered. Everyone told me to say something to him, but they warned me that he wouldn't be able to respond. I slowly walked over to his side, and the room emptied. The beeping machines faded into the background, and for the last time, it was just Papaw and me together again. I took his cold hand in mine, and with a trembling voice I said "Papaw, wake up! We have to go fishing again!"
To my surprise, he squeezed my hand, and with all the strength he had left, he gently rubbed my fingers. Without saying a word, he told me that there wouldn't be another fishing trip. He told me that he wouldn't be watching from the pew on my wedding day, but he would always love me like no other man could. He silently told me that he wouldn't push my children on the swing under the old oak tree out front, but that he would hold them in heaven until he sent them down to me. I understood. I walked out of the room, down the hall, to a window, and I whispered my goodbye.
Here it is, fourteen years later, and there are still days like today when I miss him so much it takes my breath away. Since his passing, I have learned more about his past. He was severely abused as a child, and he endured years of a marriage to a woman who didn't return his love. I often think of the profound impact his love had on my life. I think of the countless days of my life that were brightened by his presence. Knowing what I know now about his past, I believe that it was me, a silly, brown-eyed little girl, that brightened his last years on this earth.
I was recently reading a moving article about two friends who served together in World War I. One of them was injured badly, and against his officer's commands, the other left the safety of the trenches to save his friend's life. While he was carrying his friend over his shoulder, he too was shot. As he lay dying, his commanding officer yelled at him that it wasn't worth dying to save someone who was obviously too far gone. His last words were "It was worth it, sir, because when I got to him, he said, 'Jim, I knew you'd come!'"
On the day I was born, Papaw's face lit up as he proclaimed, "That's my girl!" I imagine what we both felt that day when we met for the first time-"I knew you'd come."
I wish you all could have met him. It is my hope that everyone in this world has someone like him in their lives. My childhood, like everyone's, wasn't an easy one. I imagine it is difficult for any soul to arrive here on earth, perfect and full of light, only to be told by the world that something is wrong with them. We're told we're good if our actions please another, and we're bad if they don't.
My grandfather, or "Papaw" as I called him, was the one person who really saw me. It didn't matter what my behavior was- I always looked the same in his eyes. I was always innocent, loving, and pure. While my other family members were coming and going in my life- due to marital separation, suicide attempts, and simply closing themselves off, he was always there. Every day after school, his old blue truck was waiting in the driveway. He always met me with a "bear hug" and an ear-to-ear grin. He would hide sticks of gum in one of his shirt pockets, and I had to guess which one held my treat.
I knew Papaw for fourteen years. In that time, I tried to get in as much time with him as I could. No matter what was going on in my life, it all disappeared when he pushed me in the swing under the old oak tree in his front yard. I loved to twist the ropes around and around until they sent me spinning, and Papaw would laugh at me, saying "You're as drunk as a skunk!" A side of him that he didn't dare show anyone else would come out in the silly songs he made up to make me laugh as we drove down country roads. Our favorite thing to do together was to fish in one of the ponds around his farm. He thought he was teaching me to fish, but I was learning so much more. I was learning the meaning of unconditional love.
Papaw was at the end of his life when I was just beginning mine. When I was eleven, I noticed him growing tired more easily. He would fall asleep in his big, comfy chair, and I would crawl into his lap. His big arms would wrap around me and hold me while he slept.
I'll never forget when I realized he was dying. My brother and I were spending time at his house, and my brother was on his way out to church. He stopped in the kitchen to remind my grandmother to call 9-1-1 if anything happened to Papaw. I was shaking when I pulled up a chair next to him. There was a lump in my throat when I, worried about his life after death, asked "Papaw, do you know God?" He replied, "Lindsay, I know God because I know you."
A few days later, the call came. On the way to the hospital, I silently prayed that I wouldn't be too late. I walked in to see him, pale and weak, in the sterile hospital bed. He wasn't smiling, he didn't look strong like I remembered. Everyone told me to say something to him, but they warned me that he wouldn't be able to respond. I slowly walked over to his side, and the room emptied. The beeping machines faded into the background, and for the last time, it was just Papaw and me together again. I took his cold hand in mine, and with a trembling voice I said "Papaw, wake up! We have to go fishing again!"
To my surprise, he squeezed my hand, and with all the strength he had left, he gently rubbed my fingers. Without saying a word, he told me that there wouldn't be another fishing trip. He told me that he wouldn't be watching from the pew on my wedding day, but he would always love me like no other man could. He silently told me that he wouldn't push my children on the swing under the old oak tree out front, but that he would hold them in heaven until he sent them down to me. I understood. I walked out of the room, down the hall, to a window, and I whispered my goodbye.
Here it is, fourteen years later, and there are still days like today when I miss him so much it takes my breath away. Since his passing, I have learned more about his past. He was severely abused as a child, and he endured years of a marriage to a woman who didn't return his love. I often think of the profound impact his love had on my life. I think of the countless days of my life that were brightened by his presence. Knowing what I know now about his past, I believe that it was me, a silly, brown-eyed little girl, that brightened his last years on this earth.
I was recently reading a moving article about two friends who served together in World War I. One of them was injured badly, and against his officer's commands, the other left the safety of the trenches to save his friend's life. While he was carrying his friend over his shoulder, he too was shot. As he lay dying, his commanding officer yelled at him that it wasn't worth dying to save someone who was obviously too far gone. His last words were "It was worth it, sir, because when I got to him, he said, 'Jim, I knew you'd come!'"
On the day I was born, Papaw's face lit up as he proclaimed, "That's my girl!" I imagine what we both felt that day when we met for the first time-"I knew you'd come."
posted by BlossomingSoul at
10:33 AM
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