Today, I have the privilege of honoring my grandfather,
Frank, on behalf of the entire family.
It was hard for each of us to capture in writing what he
meant to us because he represents so much more than words can really ever describe.
That is how my Aunt Sherri best described him.
And I think that is how my grandpa would have described himself.
And although it is a completely accurate representation, I would have to say…
To us, he was so much more.
He never demanded respect; but commanded it through his very presence in a room.
He never lectured about “right” and “wrong” – but you certainly knew the difference with complete clarity when you were around him.
Whether it was providing coats to needy children in the wintertime or the grocery bags filled with vegetables he’d give away from his garden – or the $2 bills he would hand out to the grandkids - grandpa found great joy in giving to others.
He was Brave and he Loved this Country.
He served four years in the Army Air Corps during WWII
and flew 30 missions in a B-24 bomber. He volunteered to be a belly turret gunner because one of his buddies was claustrophobic. One of our family’s greatest treasures is a small diary in an address book that documented each of the 30 missions.
A devout Catholic, grandpa would always carry his Rosary
on those missions.
Once he left his Rosary behind as his bomber taxied down
the runway. He requested – and was granted – permission to go back and get it.
I’ll always remember being in the stands with grandpa at
a football game and watching him as they would begin to play the national
anthem.
The way he stood up quickly, took off his hat and put it
over his heart. You just knew as a kid that you better do the same.
I never really understood why he seemed to take it so seriously…until we were attacked in our own country on Sept. 11.
At that moment, I understood everything it was that he had fought for.
And why he rose with honor in appreciation of our country – and all it stands for.
He was a man of few words – but his words always spoke volumes.
You always wanted to please him.
You never wanted to disappoint him.
He was a man you looked up to and a man you respected.
He was the patriarch of our family.
He had a major impact on our lives and the lives of others.
And, in his 87 years – he was many things to many people.
To my grandma, Sanda, he was her life-long sweetheart of
63 years.
For many of us, you can’t imagine one without the other. They married in 1945 and built a life and family together.
Some of our fondest memories are of grandma and grandpa bickering.
It was always in jest and playful at heart. It included things like…
·
the phrase “Yes, Sanda!”
·
grandpa would always have the REAL details of
the stories grandma would try to tell (like the actual names, dates, times,
places, etc. you know..the facts)
·
when grandma would say something “smart” –
grandpa would stick his tongue out at her behind her back…or to her face. He
did that often during his last weeks in the hospital. That is how we knew when
he was having a good day.
·
Or, grandpa would say something about
grandma. And being hard of hearing (or practically deaf)…grandma would say
“What did you say Frank???” “I said you were LOVELY.
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Grandma
holding his hand and tracing his fingers.
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The
moment they had to cut off his wedding ring after 63 years.
-
She
desperately trying to force feed him so that he might get up the strength to
come home again.
-
Every
evening before grandma left for the night, she would lean down and kiss his
lips good-bye.
-
And
finally, her coming to terms and honoring his wishes in the end – even when she
couldn’t bear the thought of going on without him.
To my dad and my aunts and uncles, grandpa was a loving
father. As kids they would wait all week to attend football games with grandpa
on Friday nights.
One of Steve’s fondest memories was of grandpa in the
summertime when he was a young boy. Back when grandpa was a teacher, they were
only paid for the nine months they worked. Each summer they would have to find
supplemental work to make ends meet. My grandpa would work all day driving a
wheat truck during harvest.
He would go to work early, come home late, and be covered
in dust and dirt.
But it never stopped him from driving up to the house,
getting out of the car, and immediately playing catch for a half an hour with
his kids.
He ALWAYS had time for his family.
To his grandchildren, he meant the world.
Whenever one of us would walk in…he would say,
“How’s my Peshkadetta? How’s my Johnahattu?
He was always at every game, sporting event, play, and
recital.
He was there to pick you up from school, buy you your
favorite meal, or shuttle you to your next appointment.
I remember him sitting on the floor with Annalisa playing
Barbie dolls. He was in his 70s, but he was by far the best “Ken” she ever had.
In his last few months, it really was the “simple” things that my grandpa enjoyed most.
-
Like
having the girls over at their house in between skating and gymnastics
practice.
-
Or,
an unexpected visitor – or group of visitors - at the door to visit.
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He
enjoyed his favorite programs on TV – the Game Show network or Two and a Half
Men.
-
He
loved morning coffee at McDonald’s with his crew. And I know Mike Hepworth has
said that nobody could ever fill grandpa’s seat again.
-
And
every now and then – much to grandma’s dismay - he would tell my Dad he needed
a trip “down south” to Wildhorse Casino where he consistently lost the $100
grandma had rationed him. Those were the “simple” things he loved to do.
After grandpa passed, the family continued to gather to
plan and prepare for the funeral. We learned new things about grandpa as we
went through some of his belongings.
You’d often hear someone say “I didn’t know that about
him…”
-
He
had received the Distinguished Flying Cross for his missions during WWII
-
He
had received a degree in accounting and was supposed to move back to Spokane to
start a CPA firm with a friend. That friend became very wealthy I hear. But
grandpa chose to become a life-long educator in our community. And I think we
are all very happy with his choice.
We also learned of the meticulous planning of his own
funeral – down to the songs he wanted played. One of them is Dean Martin’s
“You’re Nobody till’ Somebody Loves You.”
When I listened to that song again, and really thought
about grandpa…If you could have seen all of the people that surrounded him in
his last days…and really his last moments…
I have to say that “you were LOVED” grandpa. You were
definitely “SOMEBODY.” And the love we felt from you made each of us the
“SOMEBODIES” that we are today.
As
sure as the stars shine above - we will miss you! We’ll be seeing you
grandpa…
