Eight Months

Eight months is a long time.

Other than the seven years I lived in Morgantown, I’ve lived next to my grandparents all my life. They have always been accessible. If I ever needed anything (a tool, a sandwich, the air compressor, a random DVD, a photo album, etc.), I could always walk over to their house and they would give me whatever I was looking for…and things I didn’t know I needed. But what they wanted the most was for me to just sit a while and talk about anything and everything. That was something I always took for granted–that all I had to do was walk across the yard and there were my grandparents. Even when people say, “don’t take those moments for granted,” I don’t think you can prepare for those moments to be gone.

But now it’s been eight months since I talked to Pawpaw. More than eight months since I looked out my window to see him sitting in a lawn chair in front of his garage. And yet, I still find myself expecting to see him over there. I still glance in his garage when the door is open, thinking he’s going to be tinkering with something inside. But he’s not there now.

My grandpa left his mark all around our property. He gifted the land to us when we came back from Morgantown, which was a huge blessing. Just across the property line behind our house, are some of his storage buildings and other “stuff.” He loved to keep everything because you never know when you might need it. Across the road there are several other storage buildings that are filled with all types of gadgets and parts because, again, you never know when you might need them.

But with that many pieces of him around me, I constantly feel like I’m going to look across the yard and see him working on something at one of those buildings of his. But he’s not there. It’s a weird feeling.

When someone passes away, you can never truly prepare for it. It’s not like they packed up and moved somewhere else. Instead, they’re gone, but all their stuff is still here. No matter how many times Pawpaw made it abundantly clear that he was “ready to go,” I still wasn’t prepared for when he “went.”

So now I’m sitting here thinking about him, and just typing thoughts in a rambling way because I don’t really know how else to process all that is going through my mind. I guess what I’m trying to say is that he’s gone, I miss him, there was no way to prepare for his absence, and yet, the trail he left behind is all around me. And his legacy lives on. He was a man of character that I can only hope to emulate in my own life.

Pawpaw was a hard worker and believed in integrity in everything you do. It didn’t matter how small the task, but you did what you said you were going to do and you did it to the best of your ability. That was ingrained in all of us from a young age. He was a hard working man who was always taking on some project around the house or garage. And that’s not to mention that he was also a veteran, ran a service station, had been a police officer and health inspector, and managed the local landfill. He did a lot of jobs that required sweat and hard work.

But manual labor was not all he did. One of the things I loved about Pawpaw, looking back, is how well-rounded he really was. Pawpaw was perfectly content to sit and read a book. He would read anything from George Eliot’s Silas Marner to Louis L’Amour books. Between Mawmaw reading to me as a child, and Pawpaw’s fondness for books, I know that’s where my love of reading come from. Besides reading, he also sang and “picked” a little on guitar too. Once again, he was well-rounded.

Pawpaw was always ready for any of his kids or grandkids to stop by unannounced. In the event that we did, his favorite thing to do, above everything else mentioned, was to sit and talk to us. I can’t stress that enough. Pawpaw liked to talk about anything and everything. First and foremost, he loved to tell stories of his past. He liked to talk about his old cars and his godly parents and their impactful testimony. He liked to tell of the adventures of him and his brothers. He liked to laugh about the business ventures and pranks that he and my Uncle Junior schemed. He liked to reminisce on his wild younger years that settled down when he met my grandma. Probably most of all, he liked to talk about his boys and us grandchildren–never failing to shed a tear (or several) before telling us how proud he was of all of us.

And of course, oftentimes all of society’s “off-limits” topics were his go-to conversations. You never had to wonder what Pawpaw thought of you or any philosophical, religious, or political topic at hand. He could stir the pot like nobody else, but yet I hardly ever saw him get emotionally charged. He could ruffle others’ feathers, but he always remained pretty calm and collected. He just wasn’t afraid to talk about the things that everyone says you shouldn’t talk about. In all actuality, people need to talk about these things.

Remembering how Pawpaw talked about these topics, I now wish more people could have his demeanor in these conversations. Tell about your political views, believe them strongly, but don’t get overly bitter about it all. Even when it can get dicey, talk about what’s going on in the world–the good, bad, and ugly.

Most importantly, tell people about Jesus. Let people know Jesus is exactly who they need. Even when it’s uncomfortable to hear, we need Jesus, and we need to let Him change our lives, not expect Him to embrace whatever our pet sin is. Jesus came to bring us to repentance and make us new creations, which means the person each of us is naturally isn’t all that great. We need redemption. Telling people that fact isn’t always easy for them to stomach, but Pawpaw was the type that charged in anyway and called out what he saw in people’s lives. Is that always the way to go about it? Probably not. But in this casual, half-hearted church age we’re living in, we need more Paul Barleys.

And it’s precisely his testimony about Jesus that lets me know he’s fine. For the last several years, following his bout with cancer and his brothers’ deaths, Pawpaw longed for his Heavenly home. And when his time came, he wanted us to let him go there. And that’s exactly what happened. He peacefully went on to be with Jesus. I know I will see him again one day! But while he’s gone–while I’m waiting on that day– I can still see my grandpa around me. I see him when I hear my Uncle Bobby down in his garage working on restoring cars. I can see him all around the buildings in my yard. I can see him when my Uncle Matt fires up Pawpaw’s old tractor and drives it up the road. I can see him when Dad tells some big family story. I can see him when my grandma is sitting on the porch next to some of his old chairs. And I know that one day, Pawpaw and I are going to meet Jesus in the air together, in our resurrected bodies, and we can pick up right where we left off.

We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, concerning those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.  For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, in the same way, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For we say this to you by a word from the Lord: We who are still alive at the Lord’s coming will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the archangel’s voice, and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are still alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.–1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

I don’t know if I made any sense or said much of anything in this post, but I know that I long for that resurrection day because eight months has already been a long time.