I wish I was more like him.
I knew him for most of my life. When he passed, I was aware of a presence that was missing, but it wasn't until much later that I found out just how much of an effect he had upon my entire life.
As I look back today, I notice that he was the one person that I knew I could always go to.
He was born in Mableton, Georgia. Across the tracks some would say. I didn't find out much about his upbringing until I chose to do a report on him in middle school. Out of the depression, he worked, married the woman he loved, raised a family, built churches and played softball!
I remember the last day that I saw him. It was shortly before his death and I wept at his feet. I felt like I had let him down. It was Christmas 2006 and I was a mess. My life had started to crumble around me and I spent most of that Christmas morning curled up in a ball in my Aunt's downstairs bedroom. I remember it as one of the lowest moments of my life. And I came to him. After everyone had settle into different parts of the house, I came and just wanted to be near him.
I didn't know it was the last time I'd see him. He told me that I was going to be ok.
I heard his voice one more time on the phone. When I called him to seek some sense out of all I was experiencing.
Again, he assured me that I would survive and that I could keep moving forward.
My grandfather was a man of Faith. A man I always looked to. I don't necessarily find my faith in the same ways that he did, but much of how I live comes from how he presented himself. How he always encouraged my writing. He even had his secretary take some of my early attempts at poetry and prose and type them for me.
I saw him loose his true love. An event that I will never forget or let slip from my mind. He met my grandmother when she was just a teen, and they married secretly. He had only that one love. She passed of cancer and I stayed with them the summer before she died. He drove her over an hour once a week to Atlanta to seek treatment. He pushed her through the doors of the hospital and spent countless hours seeing her through an ordeal that I didn't quite understand even though I witnessed much of it.
I saw him praise her and cry for her. He loved her.
In college I moved in with him. I treasure those years as some of the greatest in my life. He told me to go and to experience. He had his own life and was dating. In fact he dated more than I did. I knew he was there, and I didn't want to disappoint him, but he let me make mistakes and didn't seem to judge me.
He called most of us "George". and he was always able to find a glimmer of lightness out of even the hardest situations. He had moments when I lived with him that I saw some of the hard times, but I always knew he had a pretty good grasp on life and how to live it without compromising who he was or what he believed. And he used laughter often and deeply!
He was always tinkering. I hated that then. The cars, the houses, the projects... Oh, but that's the subject of another blog! He was always working on something, trying something out (often with my Uncle's help). The city of Carrollton finally made the two of them get rid of some of the used car lot/junkyard on the front lawn!
He loved Baseball and I often sat and watched parts of games with him when I lived there. It was a love that I share with him now, and as Baseball season is starting, I can see him sitting in the recliner downstairs with the commentators muted - just enjoying the game. I love that image, and when I stop long enough I find myself enjoying the same.
But the reason this is really on my mind is that I know, even with his faults, and he had them, he was one of the greats. I miss him. I miss knowing that I can reach out and talk to him and hear his advice - even when it's contrary to what I wanted to hear. He was crucial to who I am today. And I hope that one day, when I am nearing my end, I will be called a "Character", I mean a Man of Character like him!
