Dear Pappy,

When we stopped by your place on Monday, you were sleeping, which means that the last time I talked to you was a week ago.

You were sitting at the dinner table across from Grandmother and I caught a glimpse of the man from years ago. You were so pleased to be back in your well worn overalls. You’d fished out your billfold and your heart was full of good intentions: “I don’t drink except for a Pepsi every once and awhile, I don’t smoke. I don’t chew tobacco and if I want to use my money to give to widows and the fatherless, then that’s my business. I’m getting tired of the petticoat government around here.” We all laughed and I squeezed your gnarled hand as I headed out the door. “Good-bye sweetheart. Take you time agoin, but hurry back” you said…

Well, I stopped by tonight, but my “hello is anybody home” will never again be met with the standard “Nobody here but us chickens!” Because you were finally called to that Home you’d waited for so long.

So tonight, dear Pappy, as I’m swimming through the flood of memories that’s been unleashed in the last several hours- I wish I’d told you a lot of things the last time we spoke, but it’s too late for that now.

You knew it anyways.

Famous for your wonderful quirky sense of humor, your love of your wife of almost 67 years and her good food, your zeal for butcher day and your constant gift of fresh homegrown goodies- honey comb straight from the hive, black walnuts, sweet corn, red potatoes, and Dentyne gum; you left a legacy of hard work, putting extra effort into loving the widows and the fatherless, and worshiping our Creator for the 91 years you were on this earth-by always having a song on your heart.

And so I rejoice with you over yesterday. I will never forget stopping to see you and asking what you were up to and you replied “Putting in time, just like I’m in jail.” You’ve finally been released, and though we all wished for this, now that it’s here, I’m still really sad.

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For one brief moment, I wished I was still a little girl that could crawl up on your lap and you’d give me a “bearding” with that few days of growth on your face… And we go over my list of favorite food, and I’d show you my latest mortal wound and you’d pull out you pocketknife and say “Here, I can fix that, let me cut it off”. And then I’d run as hard as I could before returning for round 2… I’m so thankful for all the memories.

You knew I loved you, right?

One more reason to be excited about finally going Home…

Rest in Peace, dear Pappy,

Kendra

The House By the Side of the Road – Sam Walter Foss

often quoted by Pappy

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by;
They are good, they are bad, they are weak,
They are strong,
Wise, foolish – so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban? –
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.