Many of you who know me are likely aware that my grandpa (aka “Pop”) passed away last week. It has been a long week, and it’s still setting in with me, to a degree. At 91yrs (and change), he’s just always been there. It’s pretty amazing, somewhat unusual, and very fortunate that he lived that long and still had all of his faculties. While his body was giving out on him toward the end, his mind was still fairly sharp. I hope I inherited that gene.
Many people have asked if we were close, and I guess you could say we were. In many ways he was like a father to me. As a kid I spent many, many hours on the farm “shadowing” my grandpa around. One of my favorite memories was riding in the combine with him in the fall or sitting on his lap and “driving” the old blue truck. I attended church with him for several years and, for whatever reason, also went to a lot of Farm Bureau meetings. lol! This continued as I grew older, and transitioned from just following and riding along to actually doing things. We spent many hours building fence and stalls, baling hay, bringing in crops, taking care of livestock, and going to shows/auctions/church/etc. Pop was one of the few people who knew how to get me up in the morning. While my grandma would yell at me from the bottom of the stairs until she got mad at me, Pop would come sit on the bed next to mine and start listing off things we needed to do until I finally raised the proverbial white flag and got up.
Like any relationship, Pop and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye on things. We were especially prone and well known for getting into arguments when baling hay. Usually it was because he was going too fast, baling up snakes and wasps, or complaining about the way we were stacking. Fortunately, looking back it’s kind of funny. He used to get mad because I wouldn’t see a wrench that was right next to me. He once fussed because I didn’t know “this way” meant “right”, and “that way” referred to “left”. We were from different generations, but I always looked up to him and hoped he would approve of the job I was doing.
Unfortunately, Pop got out of the cattle business - my favorite part of the farm - not long after I left for college. Then, in 1996 (around the time I got married), he quit the grain-farming operation. He still baled a little hay and boarded horses (there are 4 left there now), but the farm operations had largely ceased. Pop was pretty set in his ways, and sometimes allowed others to take advantage of him. He came from a generation that took people for their word, which seemed to attract a lot of people who had ulterior motives. In recent years, the back fields were sold off for apartment and home developments. I somewhat regret that I did not spend more time there over the past 10 years helping out with things, but as the farm ceased “normal” operations it lost some of the luster for me. I knew I was not going to be able to farm it myself, which made it more difficult for me to spend time maintaining it. That was a bit selfish, I guess. It’s a bit surreal to me now, because this is the first time since the early 1900’s that no-one directely related to me has lived on the farm. And while I’ll still likely do some things around there for a while, it will never again be (even remotely) the way it was.
As a WWII Army veteran, Pop was part of the “greatest generation” that saw times like we’ll hopefully never see again. But all that considered, he kept a very positive outlook on life and tried not to worry, which is something I need to try harder to emulate. I am fortunate not only to have known my grandpa, but to have lived 37 years with him around. While I often joke about how he used to leave me at church, auctions, the 4-H grounds, etc., he was there for my high school and college graduations, my wedding, my first house, and the births of my children. My kids knew him and loved him, and were also touched by his passing. That is very special to me.
It’s hard to let someone go that you know and love, and it really makes a difference when losing that person changes something that has been so iconic in your life. To me, my grandparents and the farm would just always be there. As a kid, it never crossed my mind that it would ever be any different. Perhaps in Heaven there’s one just like it that my grandparents are farming right now. Only there, everything grows green, the cattle are healthy, and sun and rain comes in precise amounts. The pastor at Pop’s funeral noted that, in Heaven, we will work to tend God’s farm (garden). If that’s the case, then perhaps someday Pop and I will once again mend fence together or even put up some hay. And if so, I promise not to curse at him for going too fast. =)
So I’ll catch you later, Pop. You’ll be missed until then.
