Pap

I lived with my grandfather for 14 years. He came to live with us at my parent's house when I was 2. I called him Pap. He used to totally piss me off. That used to make him laugh. I used to roll around on a pink tricycle motorcycle, and he would say "Lizzie Lizzie thumper, cow poops dumper." I would get sooooooooo angry over that. Seriously, who says that? My Pap, that's who. Looking back, I totally got my sense of humor thru him. He used to come home from the grocery store with scratch off tickets and pastries for me. I would never act thrilled. But, deep down, it was AWESOME.

As I got older, our relationship seemingly fizzled. I think it was just the inevitable growing up process. I saw him get sicker, and saw the strain that it had on my mother and on us. I watched him recover from open heart surgery, and return to eating bacon cooked in bacon fat, with eggs every day. He enjoyed his drink too. Maybe a little too much, but by the time he got to live at my house it was seemingly under control. In the evenings he would stay in his part of the house. I think that's because he would be tipping back some Scotch. When you are 75 do what you want I say.

He raised 3 beautiful girls. He worked. He worked. He worked. He was a prison guard during a time when being one was a scary terrible job. He was exposed to Tuberculosis. He worked in the coal mines of Pennsylvania, and had black lung to prove it. He went to war during the second World War. He was stationed in England, where he met my Grandma. During his time in the Army he was a cook. My Pap could really cook. He needed to make more money to support 3 growing girls, and so he took a job as a gardener for a local well to do family as an extra source of income. When he lived at our house he grew Gardenias, and to this day when I smell Gardenias I think of Pap.

When I got to my teen years, I became embarrassed by having Pap living with us. I didn't want to have friends over, and felt like I was different because my grandfather lived with us. Looking back I realize that my Mom was just a very kind, trend setter. It's become more and more prevalent these days.

I turned 16 on July 22, 1997. I saw my Pap alive on that very same day. The next day he took his final breath. I believe he held on for one last day, for me. So, that I wouldn't forever be torn with his death and my birth. I found out I was pregnant on the 23rd of July this year.

I am no longer embarrassed to have had you in my life Pap. To that, I named my son Charles, for you. May he be just as strong willed, hard working, and full of life as you were.

I never cried after he passed. I never knew why. I thought for the longest time, I must not have loved him. Now, I realize, that I loved him more than I was able to comprehend at that time. I wasn't able to process thru it all. It hurt to much to let go, and now I never have to. I sit here writing this balling my eyes out. I am proud to have a son named Charlie.

Miss you Pap.