My Pap Died
It's been a week,
that I would like to be over.
My grandfather died today.
He died in his sleep.
He was 88.
My Dad said that it was peaceful, and it was time.
I believe him.
My grandfather's name was Louie. I called him Pap.
He was bald
and short
and nice.
He said things like "Hell no," and "god damn." all of the time.
I hadn't seen him in five years.
Since my last grandparent died.
But I always loved him and he loved me and I remember him as he was when I was a little girl.
He always smelled like auto parts.
He worked in an auto parts store his whole life. It was owned by his brother, Al, who it was rumored was in the mafia. Uncle Al used to give my mother purses that "fell off a truck." We never did anything with THAT side of the family.
My Pap used to take me to Mass that was held in Latin. I never knew what they were saying but I thought it was beautiful.
My grandparents always had glass candy dishes filled with gum drops and Circus Peanuts. Their house was always filled with fun things to explore, usually stuff we weren't supposed to explore.
My Pap used to take me "down street," which meant down to the town area of where they lived, which was Coraopolis, PA. When we went "down street," Pap would always buy us something.
He loved to bowl,
and play cards.
The night that his first son was born he was playing poker.
He won.
They named my uncle, "Lucky."
He used to mix up instant iced tea and Lemon Blend in plastic jugs. It was always really, really sweet.
When I would stay over, he would always make me breakfast. Whatever I wanted. He would cook bacon and then cook the eggs in the bacon grease. It was goooood. No matter how much I would eat, he would say, "Is that ALL you're gonna eat? Jesus, you gotta EAT!"
They had a refrigerator down in the basement that was always filled with soda.
Always.
And not just regular soda,
GOOD soda.
Like Orange Fanta, Ginger-ale, grape soda, rootbeer, cream soda.
And there were always cookies.
At Christmas my Pap would make hundreds of cookies. His specialty was Pitzels. They are made on an iron and have a licorice flavor. I never cared for them, but I would always eat one or two every year.
My Pap knew how to sew, and quilt, and cook, and did ALL of the cleaning and gardening. My grandmother would start projects and not be able to finish them, so he would. He loved her very much. She passed several years ago.
I guess now they are together. I hope that's a good thing!
I know that I'm glad that he's at peace, and that I have my memories of him to share with my children, and all of you.
Peace to you all.
that I would like to be over.
My grandfather died today.
He died in his sleep.
He was 88.
My Dad said that it was peaceful, and it was time.
I believe him.
My grandfather's name was Louie. I called him Pap.
He was bald
and short
and nice.
He said things like "Hell no," and "god damn." all of the time.
I hadn't seen him in five years.
Since my last grandparent died.
But I always loved him and he loved me and I remember him as he was when I was a little girl.
He always smelled like auto parts.
He worked in an auto parts store his whole life. It was owned by his brother, Al, who it was rumored was in the mafia. Uncle Al used to give my mother purses that "fell off a truck." We never did anything with THAT side of the family.
My Pap used to take me to Mass that was held in Latin. I never knew what they were saying but I thought it was beautiful.
My grandparents always had glass candy dishes filled with gum drops and Circus Peanuts. Their house was always filled with fun things to explore, usually stuff we weren't supposed to explore.
My Pap used to take me "down street," which meant down to the town area of where they lived, which was Coraopolis, PA. When we went "down street," Pap would always buy us something.
He loved to bowl,
and play cards.
The night that his first son was born he was playing poker.
He won.
They named my uncle, "Lucky."
He used to mix up instant iced tea and Lemon Blend in plastic jugs. It was always really, really sweet.
When I would stay over, he would always make me breakfast. Whatever I wanted. He would cook bacon and then cook the eggs in the bacon grease. It was goooood. No matter how much I would eat, he would say, "Is that ALL you're gonna eat? Jesus, you gotta EAT!"
They had a refrigerator down in the basement that was always filled with soda.
Always.
And not just regular soda,
GOOD soda.
Like Orange Fanta, Ginger-ale, grape soda, rootbeer, cream soda.
And there were always cookies.
At Christmas my Pap would make hundreds of cookies. His specialty was Pitzels. They are made on an iron and have a licorice flavor. I never cared for them, but I would always eat one or two every year.
My Pap knew how to sew, and quilt, and cook, and did ALL of the cleaning and gardening. My grandmother would start projects and not be able to finish them, so he would. He loved her very much. She passed several years ago.
I guess now they are together. I hope that's a good thing!
I know that I'm glad that he's at peace, and that I have my memories of him to share with my children, and all of you.
Peace to you all.
posted by Kathryn at
6:12 PM
16 Comments:
Odd that I would run across your blog at a time when I've been contemplating the loss of my own grandparents.
I'm going to be 50 a month from today, and it terrifies me for many reasons. I started thinking about whether I would be as graceful and dignified in my "golden years" as my own grandmother.
Isn't it wonderful, those little things we remember most about lost love ones? Smells, sounds, quirks and the like. It's those things that bring our lost ones back to us, everytime we reach into our hearts and drag those tactile memories out.
My Grandmother was very cool. She wore a wig to cover her aging and ever-whitening hair, but it wasn't one of those tacky 70s-style wigs of the times, she looked beautiful in it. But then again, maybe it WAS tacky and all I ever saw was her beauty. Before even my mother wore bell-bottoms, my grandmother was wearing them in tasteful dress-slack fabrics. Damn she always looked good!
Like your Pap, my grandmother ALWAYS had cookies around. I remember one time my mother telling me, as we were driving to my grandparents' house, that we were NOT to have any cookies or pop, as we weren't staying long and she didn't want my dinner ruined.
Well, Gramma asked "Do you want some cookies?" and I lowered my heads and quietly declined. Looking sharply at my mother, my Gramma waited a few moments then said "Pat, come help me in the kitchen for a moment." As I dutifully followed her into the kitchen, she reached for the cookie jar, opened it, and offered it's contents to me with the stern warning "Now don't tell your mother I did this!"
Because my mother was a single mother, if I was sick, I *had* to stay with my grandmother (oh darn). I'm amazed that I didn't figure out to feign sickness more often, as I loved staying with my Gramma -- she was so attentive and nurturing when I was sick. I reveled in the attention!
When I was 12, my grandmother had breast cancer. She underwent a double mastectomy but I don't remember ever hearing her complain of pain or anything else. She was a deeply devout Catholic and believed that God never gave us crosses larger than we could carry. Two years later, she had cancer of the uterus and another surgery. No complaints then, either. Not long after that, she was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and, while we never heard her complain of pain, the only sign that she had this crippling disease was that we no longer got hand-knitted or hand-sewn articles of clothing as gifts any more.
One day, walking back to the house from the mailbox, she collapsed on the front walk. My grandfather took her to the emergency room where it was determined that she'd had a mild heart attack, nothing to worry about, but they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. She had a difficult night that night and the nurse told my grandfather that she'd had another mild heart attack but that they weren't concerned about it and would likely release her that day. As my grandfather was holding her hand telling her this, she just slipped away. She was only 67 years old.
My grandfather was devastated.
But what nobody knew was that my grandfather had been keeping a secret from my grandmother and the rest of the family. He had lung cancer and was trying to figure out how to tell his wife of almost 50 years. When the brightest star in his sky left that day, my grandfather apparently decided that being with her was more important than anything else, even his own life, and so he stopped fighting the cancer, gave into it and, three months after my grandmother passed, my grandfather followed her. He was only 69 years old.
It's funny, all I can remember my grandfather EVER saying to any of us kids was "Get away from the front of the TV!" He had a gruff tone and voice, and we were all afraid of him and never knew what a gentle and loving soul he was until he lost our grandmother and stopped living.
It's been 25 years since my grandparents ran off together to whatever life there is beyond this one, but I remember it all. The smell of my grandmother's skin, the laughter and kindness in her eyes, her unconditional love for her family. My grandfather's gruff voice with the playful look in his eye, he had a "chair" long before Archie Bunker came around with his, the swirl of his hair around the mostly bald top of his head, and his dedication and devotion to his wife.
I like to think that my Gramma and Grampa are happy together, spending their eternal lives together as always, with just a short 3 month separation.
And I'd like to think that they're playing Pinochle with your Pap.
*hug*
I'm here and you have my number.
That was such a sweet post.
You're not having a good week, are you?
*HUG*
Wow...first Rudder and now Pap. I just wanna cry for you.
*hug*
:*(
So sorry for your loss. I knew as soon as you said "down street" that you meant somewhere in the Pgh area. I lived there for 5 years and my entire fam is from there. No one ever knows what Pitzells are.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
My grandparents have been gone for years, but I'll always think of my favorite grandpa bruce when I smell roasted salted peanuts or taste vernor's soda.
Call me if you need me.
And, tell your mom that I totally adore her! Oh, and your girls, too. But, mostly I'm glad that I finally got to meet YOU.
I think the world of you, and your tribute to Pap is touching and sweet. You'll be fine, and in the meantime we all care about you.
xxoo
I just wanted to express my condolences. You paint such a wonderful picture of your grandfather. It's great that you have such nice memories and he lived such a long life.
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. You have wonderful memories...I'm sure they made your grandpa just as happy...
Damn. This is a really bad week. I'm so sorry.....hang in there, and love those around you.
A very touching tribute to a man who obviously touched you deeply.
My condolences, and thanks for sharing such a wonderful story.
I am so sorry to hear about this for you. You are going through so much shit lately. Please let us know if we can do ANYTHING!!!!
You are in my thoughts!
I am so sorry about your loss. Your post about your pap was so sweet. I hope that you find comfort during this tough time for you.
Bad things in threes and all that, right? I hope the third isn't too bad. *hugs*
You make me wish I could have met him. :-) I think I would have liked him. Obviously you loved him.
It's wonderful that you kept him alive here.
Blessed be!
It sounds like Pap was a wonderful man.
My condolences, RSG.
Sorry to hear about your Pap. I really enjoyed reading about him.
Thanks for sharing Pap with us. I'm sorry for your loss - loving grandparents are hard to find, so I'm glad you had some and built up some great memories. ((hugs))
And it's Friday... I officially declare this week OVER. C'mon, World - let's get RSG a fresh, spankin' clean new week. A NICE one this time.
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