Poppy

Nanny and Poppy last Thanksgiving



On Sunday, the 24th, we five went out to our grandparents' house for our every-other week visit.  My grandpa, Poppy, wasn't feeling well.  Really, we thought he would get better because so many times he'd get sick and popped out of it in due time. 

Well, after we got home later that night, Dad couldn't sleep and something inside him knew something was different this time.

I awoke in the darkness of my room as our telephone rang out.  Instantly I knew.  Lights came on in the bedrooms down the hall and I didn't move.  Soon mumbling and low whispers came from Dad and Mom's room.  I told myself, "Either Poppy got worse and Dad's getting ready to take them to the doctor...or he died."  After what seemed like a long time, I drifted back to sleep, knowing that if it was so important, Dad or Mom would wake us up.

Monday morning came as any other day.  The sun was shining and that was actually a glorious sight since it's been so cloudy and rainy lately.  I walked outside and into the perfect weather, wondering what the plan was.  Originally we were going to move cattle on this day. 

Dad appeared near our pickup and trailer and I stepped towards him.  He told me the news.  Poppy had passed away.

Our Monday changed from fixing to move cattle to a service held near a grave.  Dad left before the rest of us and helped my grandma, Nanny, with preparations.  They assembled the coffin.  It was a plain one and had to be put together.  Poppy was made ready for the last resting place and slowly, the rest of us filtered out to their house. 

In a matter of only a few hours, (all thanks goes to God, who really set things into place!) we had supper made by some wonderful friends, had let a bunch of people know, some family members dug the grave, all of the immediate family, except for two, arrived, and when we pulled into the cemetery, over 70 people showed up.  It's just amazing how well everything went.

If you're wondering, yes, we had a "family burial."  We did the work, but that also gave us so much peace.  Poppy had wanted something simple and that's just what we did. 

The service was just right.  Dad and his brother and sister said a few words, some of my cousins spoke, our pastor led us in prayer, and there was even time for the people gathered around to say a few words.  We laughed and cried while remembering all the good things about Poppy.  And earlier that day, we cousins folded the American flag for Nanny.  (Poppy was a veteran.)

When the viewing was over, Dad, his brother, and many cousins lowered the coffin using ropes and after it was set, anyone could dump a few shovelfuls of dirt.  Many took this opportunity.  The sound of dirt hitting the lid of a wooden coffin is one that is so...so distinct. 

Some people left right after the short service, but many stayed until about dark.  

Monday evening was one that couldn't have gotten better.  The wind died down, the sunset was so brilliant, and the temperature was nice.  Even the rain had quit enough days before that the ground had dried out so it wasn't muddy.

When the sun had gone down most of the way, we headed back to Nanny's (and Poppy's) house.  Supper was eaten and well after dark we started moseying homeward.  By now Dad was tired, both emotionally and physically, so Big J. and I went with him.  Mom came home later, leaving Little J. to spend the night with Nanny and others.

Poppy was 99 1/2 years old.  He was still bright and his mind was working perfectly.  His hearing was a little off, maybe selective hearing is the right term.  He was walking with a walker, but still going.  He was in great health until Saturday or so and he passed away in the early morning of Monday, the 25th. 

We all greatly loved him and will miss him in the days to come. 

There are so many stories to tell!  One that I will always remember is when Poppy went to town for the first time.  He said that they went to a silent movie and at some store, he bought a new hat.  Sadly, on the way home the wind yanked that hat off his head and in his words, "We never found that hat." 

He was in WWII, married once, had great kids and grandchildren, and lived a good, long life. 

One of the things he'd tell me (and others) is...

"It takes a boring person to be bored."

 

So much happens in a person's life that one blog post could never get it all, not even a book can.

 

Thank you to everyone who's been there for us, said kind words, or just comforted us.  It's great to see so many caring people!  : )    

 

 

 

 

Look closer and you can see a windmill on the coffin. 
Since it was plain wood, we cousins wrote notes, signed, or drew on it.