How can you say thank you to man to whom you owe so much? He is one of those guys everyone loves and wishes He was their friend. He is my friend. I am privileged to say he is my Grandpa. He is the best of men.
In the summers, we always rode horses at least once a day, fished, went exploring through the woods. Our exploring trips Shawn and I would walk through the woods holding his hand while he’d tell us stories. We’d swing on grape vines, and he would pull down tree saplings for us to ride like a horse. We’d light fires up by Silver’s pond and cook hot dogs. I can remember riding in the tractor as he harvested corn and driving the truck while we picked up the bailed hay. One of our favorite things to do was to go frog giggin.’ Somehow, I was always the one to hold the frogs in the bread bags Grandma gave us. Each night we spent with them when we were little Shawn and I would sleep on either side of Grandpa and giggle until it was really late.
I have always feared his death. Even though I knew he would spend eternity in heaven, I just never knew how I could make it here without him. With all the serious health issues from the open-heart surgery, the black lung, the partial lung removal, he seemed to always fight back. I remember many times over the last 15 years when I’d be staying at their house, and I would crawl into their bedroom while they were asleep just to listen until I could hear him breathe. You see in my 31 years he has been a permanent fixture in my life. I can’t imagine a night with Grandpa without a Rook game where he’d say “I’ve got a hand like a foot” or a summer without hearing “are we gonna catch ole fighter this time Tif baby?” It was never about the fishing for me. It was always about having my Grandpa for hours on end just talking. The fishing was fun too. He was always so busy baiting my hooks that he never fished much himself! We used to have fun “jug” fishing, chasing those old jugs all over the pond and having the surprise of whatever was on the other end.
He was a friend to all. Even though he has only one son, he has been like a father to so many. He loved my Grandma deeply, for almost his whole life, and fought to stay with her until the end. He was a man of few regrets. He lived his life making every day count. He taught us not just about life, but how to live it. He spent so much time investing in us, loving us, enjoying us. He was never in a hurry. I can not think of one time when he was too busy for us. Whether we were just sitting there with him while he fixed a tractor, or sitting on the back porch: just to be near him was a gift. We looked forward to every time we could be with Grandpa and Grandma. He never left anything unsaid with us. We always knew how much we were loved and how deeply. He taught us how to love, how to be a friend, and how to make memories. One time when he was sick several years ago he said, “We’ve done it all, Tif baby, haven’t we?” Yes, Grandpa we have. And when I get up there, we’ll do it all, all over again. I remember being 16 and believing that maybe when I was 30, I could handle his death. I would beg God each year for just one more year with him. I know now, however much time I have had with him it could never be enough. That’s what heaven is for.
Haskall Travis (November 7, 1924-August 27, 2006)
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