For Grandpa

I was looking through my folders of poems and stories I've written in search of a funny Thanksgiving story. I didn't find what I was looking for, but I did find this. It is the eulogy I read at my Grandpa Wager's memorial service. I couldn't trust myself to do it from memory. (The sweater referenced is a bright yellow sweater that he always wore-until one day, as a teenager, he gave it to me. I still have it.) When I finished reading this, there was not a dry eye in the packed church.
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Golden. That is how I remember my Grandfather. Perhaps it has to do with this sweater, this bright yellow sweater that really doesn't go with anything, but was Grandpa's favorite. The sweater that appears in so many pictures, that holds so many memories in the soft knit. Or perhaps I think of my Grandfather as golden because I remember the sunshine streaming on him as he lovingly tended his orange trees. Maybe it's because the influence Grandpa had on me was brighter than the brightest of lights. Or perhaps it's because I have always believed my Grandfather was one of those rare people, one of those Angels who walk among us on earth, a shining example for the rest of us to live by. I don't know where he kept the wings hidden, or why I couldn't see his halo above his soft white hair. But I know they were there.

At first, I thought of writing a poem for Grandpa. But there were too many things I wanted to say, and I couldn't put them into a simple poem. As I was trying to write this, I found a poem that seemed very appropriate: 'Nothing Gold Can Stay' by Robert Frost.

"Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."

I consider my Grandfather one of the greatest people to have ever lived. Of all the memories I have of him, I remember him most as a very gentle man. I don't remember ever hearing him raise his voice, or even speak in a harsh tone. My grandfather was a lamb, a gentle giant among men.

While Grandpa's gentle spirit has always amazed me, it was my Grandfather's intellect that I always respected the most. The world is full of intelligent people, and I have been fortunate enough to meet many. If someone were to ask me who the smartest person I'd ever met was, I would answer 'Grandpa Wager' without missing a beat. I remember spending hours talking to Grandpa, listening to the stories. I loved hearing the tales of his youth, comparing his Berlin to the Berlin I was growing up in. If Grandpa was talking about history, I could be found sitting at his side, listening intently. Sometimes I wished I were a sponge, so that I could absorb all the knowledge and wisdom my grandfather was passing on to me. I could never get enough of Grandpa's stories. He encouraged me to pursue things, to never be satisfied with not knowing the answer. Ignorance was not bliss; bliss was finding the answer, especially if we could explore and find the answers through our exploration. Because of Grandpa, I don't accept 'just because' as an answer. I probe, explore, and try to find reasons or answers for things that intrigue me.

Grandpa was an excellent teacher. He learned a lot from books, but he learned a lot from the world too. There are people in this world who are 'book smart', and there are those who are 'street smart'. Grandpa seemed to balance both. I remember the summers Laura and I spent in Florida, the lessons we had to do daily. Grandpa sat patiently with us, no matter how long it took us to get through the flashcards or vocabulary. The lessons didn't stop when we closed the books. They continued outside, to the orange trees, where Grandpa would reach up and pick an orange for each of his girls, explaining to us about the different types of oranges, or how to look for signs of disease in the trees. The world was his classroom. the lessons to be learned were not restricted to the binding of a book.

Grandpa was always one of our biggest supporters. From the time I was old enough to understand the word, he emphasized an education; and encouraged Laura and I to look at colleges. Grandpa always encouraged us to learn as much as we could, telling us an education is something that no one could take away from us. I never heard my grandfather say "You are wrong" or "You can't do it". Grandpa always told us to follow our dreams, believing the best way for us to learn was to do things for ourselves. He helped us realize it is okay to make a mistake, in fact, sometimes that's the best way to learn. Grandma told me recently that one of the proudest times of Grandpa's life was when both of his Granddaughters graduated from college. And because of Grandpa's influence, I know Laura and I will continue to learn; continue to find lessons in the world that surrounds us.

The first time I ever saw a rainbow, I was holding Grandpa's hand. It was a summer afternoon in Florida, after one of those quick rain showers. That afternoon, he explained what causes rainbows, and told us we could remember the order the colors appeared if we remembered 'Roy G. Biv'. Now, years later, every time I see a rainbow, I am that little girl again, standing next to Grandpa, looking up in wonder at the sky above me. I can still feel my hand in Grandpa's, can still hear his voice explaining it to me.

The rainbow was just one of nature's wonders that Grandpa helped us discover. Grandpa showed me that there is beauty all around us, we just have to open our eyes to it. Grandpa always enjoyed watching birds, identifying the different varieties. The song of the blue jays in winter and sighting the first robin in spring always made me think of Grandpa. In fact, the day before he passed away, I opened my window to find the most beautiful cardinal outside it. It was a brilliant red, deeper red than I've seen in a long time. It sat outside my window for the longest time, looking at me without saying a word. When the magnificent bird took flight, his wings played a beautiful melody in the air.

I remember how patiently Grandpa sat in his chair while Laura and I combed his hair, trying to put curlers in it like we had Grandma's. Or how Grandpa never batted an eye, but just smiled when we'd go out of our way to walk past him and rub the top of his soft hair. I remember waking up to have breakfast at Grandma's, and having glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice that Grandpa had just made. The first time I dunked a doughnut in my coffee, Mom looked at me and laughed, saying, "just like your Grandpa". And I remember the day, so many years ago, when I put Grandpa's sweater on the morning we were leaving to come home. I would have taken it off if he had said something. Instead, Grandpa looked at me, smiled, and said "let her have it".

The past few days have taken me on a wonderful journey as I have recalled memory after memory of Grandpa. I wanted to find the best words, to write the most beautiful tribute to Grandpa. To tell everyone what an incredible man he was. As I was talking to a friend last week, he told me that my Grandfather was someone he would have liked to meet. This friend told me that even though he never had the opportunity to meet Grandpa, he would miss him as well. To me, that seemed to say how wonderful a man Grandpa was, that people who only knew him through those of us close to him would miss him.

While we grieve the loss of such an incredible man, we should know that he is not gone. God has taken his body and ended the suffering, but his soul, his spirit live on in each of us gathered here today. During my grief, more than one person reminded me that Grandpa's still with me. If I close my eyes, I can still see him. His voice will be one I hear when I need a little help, and sometimes when I don't realize I need the help. I know that Grandpa is now our guardian angel, looking down on each of us and watching over us. I also know that Heaven is a brighter place now. That Grandpa's dry sense of humor is putting a smile on God's face. I know that Grandpa is at peace now, he has gone ahead to prepare the way for the rest of us.

Grandpa always believed that life was for the living. I remember he once said something about burying him before he 'started to stink'. He wouldn't want us to cry and mourn for him. I could hear Grandpa telling me "life goes on, honey". And I can still hear him saying that. I had to laugh when I realized Grandpa left this earth on February 29. To me, that seemed the most appropriate day. It's a day that only exists once every four years. And in that way, I believe Grandpa was making sure that we would carry on our lives. That we would remember the good times, and be glad that he is in a better place.