for poppy...

my gramps died last night. he was taking out the trash, after a long, fun weekend, walked out of his back door and into the arms of a loving and merciful God. i've been running in a fog since five this morning, and i really just want some sleep. but i wanted to talk about my poppy, first. some of you knew him, some of you don't, but it's my blog, so here we go...

poppy was my own personal super hero. there was no one bigger, stronger, better, kinder, gentler, wiser, tougher, or more amazing than my poppy. from the time i could crawl into the cab of his pickup until i had to start nursery school, i went everywhere he did. even to construction jobs. he never talked down to me, never made me think i couldn't do just what i set out to do, never let me give up or give in. he taught me the value of a day's work, and the value of a day's pay. he taught me that if you have a job to do, do it right and be proud of your work. he taught me to treat people fairly, regardless of what color their skin was, what kind of education they had, or how much money they had in their pockets. family always came first, and even though it sometimes meant that he had to drive 80 miles one way to provide for his family, he did it. giving of your time and your resources was big for poppy. he went on two vet trips to honduras, gave away countless gobs of candy to hungry children, and brightened up the lives of everyone he visited with.

poppy could have cared less about fancy theology. God was real, Jesus was real, and both had bailed his butt out of many a pot of hot water. faith drove him, and you could feel that in his presence. poppy prayed for a list of people every morning, our family, his friends, neighbors, people from church, etc. what his prayers may have lacked in eloquence, they made up for in love and sincerity. poppy always reminded me to pray, reminded me that God was good, all the time, even when things weren't fair or ok. reminded me that the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and that the bitter comes with the sweet.

poppy always had time for a story, or a cuddle, or a word of wisdom. he was never too busy, or too tired, or too grown up to play or laugh or chat. poppy's advice was simple, direct, and never sugar-coated. he taught me to hunt and fish, how to drive, and how to tell a good story. he had beautiful blue eyes that had seen a million miles, a million plumb lines, a million pounds of concrete, the pyramids in egypt, the wailing wall in jerusalem, the beaches of mexico, and the horror of war in korea, but they still managed to laugh and twinkle everytime we sat around the table together. i think i will miss that most of all.

so, sweet poppy, enjoy your first night home. hunt big, tell my daddy i said hello. we'll all be home soon, so keep the light on, and know we love you.

mil besos--rmg