I Love You, Papaw

“I love you, girl.”  It wasn’t the last thing he said to me, but it’s the last thing I specifically remember him saying.  He never called me “girl.”  It was always “sweetie” or “Mal.”  Sometimes he’d sing, “Mallory, Mallory, Mallory, Mallory, life is but a dream,” and I’d laugh.  This sounded different.  I thought it was both cute and sincere, like he viewed me as a friend, and like he was trying to say “I love you” in a different way so I would know how much he really meant it.  I got to see him just one more time after that.  Our last few visits were so special to me because they were days when he was in good spirits, but I was also aware our time together was drawing short.  Before I left, I hugged him, held his hand, and told him I would see him later.  It’s hard to remember specifics of what we talked and laughed about in those last visits.  You try to commit those final precious moments to memory, but the details kind of end up being a blur.  Nothing that significant happened.  I was just thankful to have more time with him. 

Papaw Jim.  On his left arm, he had a tattoo in black cursive writing.  When I was little, I would ask him why his name was written on his arm.  He would say he got it when he was young and stupid, and because he was going into the service and wanted to be identifiable if something were to happen to him.  When I was growing up, people used to say that tattoos went against the Bible, but I didn’t see anything wrong with his.  It was small, and it was just his name, so I justified it in my mind that it was perfectly okay for him to have one.  (As if he needed my stamp of approval!)

Papaw always said that two great things happened in 1987. That was the year he got his pickup truck, and also the year his first granddaughter was born…me.  His favorite granddaughter, actually.  Unless of course, you asked Alecia or Audrey.  Whoever he was around, he’d tell them they were actually his favorite.  But I knew the truth!  Ha!  We were all his favorites.

Papaw could tell the best stories.  About his wild days when he was growing up and the crazy things that happened in his adult years too.  My mom would just shake her head when he would tell us those stories.  There were also stories about his days serving in Germany.  He and my grandma would write letters back and forth while he was away in the Army.  He was actually overseas when my mom was born, and he didn’t get to see her until she was almost a year old.  My favorite story of all was the day the train dropped him off in Princeton, and he came home looking for my grandma and got to meet my mom for the first time.  I cry every time I hear it, and I’m amazed at the sacrifices he and my Grandma both made. 

Then there were the stories that I got to be a part of.  The first memory I can recall with him was on a Sunday night at church. I was sitting on his lap and listening to my Elvis-look-alike Papaw belt out the hymn “Victory in Jesus” with the rest of the congregation.  I didn’t know what the phrase “He plunged me to victory” meant, but Papaw sang with such conviction, so it must have been a good thing.  I can still hear his voice singing that song, and it has been my favorite hymn ever since.

Papaw was fun.  When Alecia and I would stay overnight with him and Grandma Sheri, we spent Saturday mornings watching cartoons on the little TV in the kitchen and having a nice healthy breakfast of nutty bars and orange soda.  It was THE BEST!  Papaw took Alecia and me shopping for Audrey’s Christmas gifts one year.  Somehow we went well over our allotted funds because we just HAD to get both of those Tigger AND Winnie the Pooh stuffed animals for Audrey.  Instead of being the voice of reason and making us put one of those adorable animals back on the shelf, he helped us out with more cash, all in the name of Christmas fun.  He was the biggest fan of me and my sisters’ American Idol spin-off “Planet Idol,” and somehow he saw real talent in the ridiculousness of our self-produced show. I will definitely never forget the family Christmas Eve parties, birthday dinners, vacations, trips to Sullivan’s diner & grocery store, and watching Princeton basketball games with all of our grandparents together.  I wouldn’t trade those times for anything in the world. 

A lot of who I am and what I like came from Papaw Jim.  He got me hooked on NASCAR, Jeff Gordon, sports cars…and tea cups!  One summer, he started going to antique stores and collecting bone china tea cups.  For what reason?  I have no idea, but I loved it!  I have quite the collection now thanks to him starting it for me, and I have a beautiful china cabinet in my living room that he picked out.  I think I also got my deep emotions from him.  He loved good soulful music. He loved having a good time and could have more fun than anyone else.  When he was into something, he was all in. When life was disappointing, he felt it deeply.  I can definitely relate.

I felt like I kind of went numb this past month, not wanting to deal with the pain I was already feeling over the thought of losing him. I know it’s not fair to him for me to push my grief away. I’ve been afraid the waves of sadness would take me over. This year has been crazy hard and not at all what it was supposed to be. The past few years have been hard, but he was always there for me despite the pain he himself was in.  He listened and made me laugh when I needed it.  He believed in me when I didn’t.  Going up to my grandparents’ house on the weekends was sometimes the only thing keeping me going through the week.  I don’t wish him another second of pain on this earth, but I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye.  Even though I knew it was coming, tonight it’s hard to fathom that he’s gone.  I miss him so much already.  I love you Papaw, and I’m relieved knowing you’re not in pain anymore.  Rest in peace.

November 13, 2020