Papaw.

I wrote this post months ago, Easter weekend actually. I’m not sure why I chose not to publish it then. Maybe the emotion was still a little too raw. Maybe by not publishing, the memories remained mine alone, not made public for others to read. Either way, as we approach October 28^th, the one year anniversary of his passing, I find it so important to remember all that I can. Even the good memories were painful at first, but now I'm ready to share.
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I baked banana bread to kick off the much anticipated Easter weekend. I was laughing at Gracie, who abandoned her own slice of bread to come pick unmelted butter off of mine. Sean was commenting on her strange love for plain butter. I like butter on muffins, baked breads, pancakes… but this girl would consider it a gift to be given a tiny bowl of plain butter to eat. For this reason, there are times I don’t use butter, just to avoid the fight… but I really needed butter on my banana bread.

Sean then casually mentioned that my Papaw always seemed to be a butter lover as well, and this is when it happened. I had an immediate and detailed vision of him sitting at the table carefully and thoroughly spreading butter onto each and every pancake in the stack on his plate, before pouring on the syrup… and then I remembered the way he used to take his molasses and mix butter right in, making a perfectly sticky, buttery puddle on his plate for his biscuits.  A huge lump formed in my throat and while I tried, I could not stop the tears.

I think it was the unexpected reference to him, and the simple memory of a man enjoying his butter that followed, that became a reminder of yet one more thing I will miss, one more visual I will never see in person again.

Sean felt bad and started to apologize for saying something that brought me to tears, but the truth is, I was so thankful he remembered. I want everyone who knew him to remember. Not only that, but I’m glad he conjured up that simple memory, one that briefly brought me face to face with Papaw, if only in my mind.
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I was pregnant the last time I kissed my Papaw good-bye. He didn’t know it, only Sean and I did. In fact, I found out I was expecting on Saturday, October 9^th, was filled with both joy and anxiety, then experienced an entirely different set of emotions upon learning Papaw had been given approximately two weeks to live, only three days later. We left our beach trip early to spend the weekend in West Virginia with our family.  I sometimes regret that I didn’t whisper that little secret in his ear, just so he knew he had another great-grandchild on the way. I imagine that his lips would have curved into a tired smile, and he would have been proud of the family that Sean and I were building. On the other hand, I was so fearful that my telling him might also make him sad, knowing he wouldn't be here for the updates as the pregnancy progressed or the happy phone call announcing that the newest family member had arrived... 

I wish that he could meet my boy and see how much Gracie has grown. He currently has two more great-grandchildren on the way. In my heart, I know he knows it. I know he is proud of this family that he built, that continues to grow.

The 4 youngest great-grandchildren (including a teeny-tiny Ethan). Little did we know that we had just added another great-grandson to the group!

Papaw, I miss you. It's the simple things really. Your joyful "hello" on the other end of the telephone, your laughter, the way you used to sit and watch golf, arms crossed, on the couch. I miss watching you put butter on your pancakes, for God's sake. You were this presence, my whole life, and while I'd like to say I'm alright, I don't know how I'll ever adjust to the fact that you're gone. We find comfort knowing you were a man of God, knowing you're in a better place now, free of the pain and fear you faced here. You inspired us all as your fought your battle. You were weak, you were sick, those last weeks, but you stood strong as an example of what it means to trust and have faith. I hope you were proud of yourself, of all you accomplished, of the way you lived your 83 years. I know I am proud of the legacy you left behind and thankful you were mine.