My Grandpa

Written for the funeral services today:

My Grandparent's Wedding Day Oct 29, 1938.

I never once saw Grandpa mad. His presence was refreshing. One didn't need to talk, no need for banter, the silence never awkward. Just sit, enjoy the company.

My Mom and Grandpa.

"How's your car been running?" he would ask. "Good, she's been doing fine lately." "Good," he would reply. We would sit. We didn't try for conversation - it wasn't necessary.

His family, taken at their 25th wedding anniversary.

Grandpa was a stoic man. His posture, his gait, his charm, his dignity...your respect.

My sister.

My oldest brother.

He was big, strong, and fit, but he had the softest eyes. Eyes made of smile. We know this smile, the gentle face, the ever-so-slightly creased lips, the twinkling eyes, and the look of shared acknowledgement. His innocent smile never aged.

I'm on the left with my other brother.

Dancing, celebrating 50th wedding anniversary.

And didn't he love to laugh? His laugh was quick but not fake, loud but not obnoxious, strong but gentle. You would see his teeth, his head would tip back, sometimes his hand would come up to his chest. He enjoyed the laugh...the time...you...and you suddenly felt better. That's Grandpa - he made everything better, including us.

My Grandparents, married 68 years. Grandpa would have been 89 this June.