As I think about my Poppy, the only Grandfather I have ever known, there will probably always be a few things I will remember about him.
Like how his face would light up on a Saturday morning when he would find Grammy in the kitchen making Spam and waffles. How he was always up early in the morning, long before dawn, reading his Bible and devotionals and praying before his day started. The sound he makes when he clears his throat to pray or to sing. I will always remember the color of his lightwashed jeans he does yardwork in and how they hang by the washing machine no matter where they have lived. I will never forget his rendition of the "turkish toilet story." And I will always, always remember his great laughter anytime we sing "The Joy of the Lord" and the "hahahahaha" verse of the song. (It's an inside joke and you would have to be there to get it.)
He loves his family, he loves music and singing and performing. He loves good food and laughter and deep conversation and rich fellowship. He loves prayer and spending time with the Lord and studying the Scriptures. And it's funny, because the things he loves, are all things I love too.
I consider myself blessed to still have all of my Grandparents with me. They are some of the relationships that I deeply treasure most as their presence and influence in me life has been far reaching. My Gramma and my Poppy and Grammy have provided consistency for me when I had none, advice and guidance when I needed it most, and have been a safe place for my heart and my story throughout the years. I dearly love them all. As I look to the future, I simply don't want to imagine doing life without them in it.
He may not agree, but I would take 80 more years and then some, with a Grandfather, a Poppy, like mine.