Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Remembering Grandpa Split


I remember Grandpa for his handshakes.

I remember his firm grasp and smile when he greeted his grandsons--he shook our hands like we were men, even when we were yet boys; I remember him insisting on grizzled face kisses from his granddaughters.

I remember Grandpa for his sounds before and during sleeping, during and after eating, and for the Homeric voicemails he left. Grandpa's style of communication, verbal or otherwise, was unique and unfiltered, much to the consternation or delight of our family.

I learned from Grandpa too--I learned what pickle juice tastes like, and that I don't completely dislike it. I learned the value of saving, and by contrast how important it is to be judicious.

Grandpa lived his life confident in many things. His confidence wasn't arrogant--it displayed the logic and belief in his mind about everything from politics to faith and love. Grandpa's surety could be affirming or it could be maddening, but it was sincere and it came from the same place--even if you didn't agree with him, you could be sure he was being straight with you.

As his grandson, I was always sure that he loved me. He loved doing things with us--making things out of wood, going fishing off docks and in a boat that barely deserves the name. Say what you want about that boat, but it wasn't wasted, and we were never in want of one to use--Grandpa made do with what he had.

There was never a lack of material that couldn't be made up for in work or scrounging. The fruits of that labor stand tall, melodically and well oiled in the homes of his children. Grandpa loved us best through his labors. He knew best how to communicate his love for his family in the works of his hands and his deeds. Grandpa passed that on to his son and daughters and to his grandchildren--his and Grandma's legacy is in our giving and thoughtful hearts. In a family that loves spending time together and doing things with and for each other.

Grandpa and Grandma did it together.
It was the best thing he could do--it's the best thing any of us can do.

I wrote about Grandpa before, here.
And he describes his clocks here:

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