Erik read three passages, from three grandchildren.  First, the youngest grandchild, then a note included in the Christmas card from a middle grandchild, and last, one from the oldest grandchild, which includes comments from a great-grandchild.

This is a story written by John’s youngest grandchild, Karen.

I remember very vividly the 30 minute lecture that grandpa gave to my 6^th grade class. He started out by saying, "A picture is worth a thousand words." Then he proceeded to draw a map of the world on the entire 3-panel white board. As he drew the map, he told my class that there is no way to completely describe any given map. A map, like a picture, no matter how much detail you put into the explanation, will never be complete unless you see it. It is a commonly known fact that a 6^th grader’s attention span is no longer than about 30 seconds. However, that day I witnessed the miraculous phenomenon: the classroom of 6^th grade students, sat attentively and listened to my grandfather lecture about the basic building blocks of geography.

Later that day many of my fellow classmates came up to me and told me how much they enjoyed listening to my grandpa, and how cool they thought he was. These comments made my face light up and my heart glow with pride.

A little less than a month ago, when my friends found out that my grandpa had passed away, some would ask me if he was the same grandpa that had talked with our class in 6^th grade. I answered "yes" calmly, but inside my heart is beating hard with love. The fact that they had remembered after all these years amazed me, and I realized how big of an impact he had made on all these young lives.

I have always treasured that as one of my fondest memories of my grandpa. However, it wasn’t until the sharing of stories and tears last night with my loving family, that I made a huge realization about that day 3 years ago. Grandpa adapted the complexity of his lectures appropriately to his audience better than anybody I have ever known. This way of adapting the same concept so it can be understood by all ages is just one small way that grandpa led such an incredibly, fulfilling, generous life.

Next, we have the text from a Christmas Card sent by Evelyn.

Dear Grandpa and Grandma,

I’m sorry I’m not spending Christmas with you this year, but I’ll be up for New Year’s. It sounds like you’re having a full house anyway, so I can wait a few days. (That way maybe I’ll even get my own bed instead of the couch, too!)

Grandpa’s latest battle with pneumonia reminded me how important and precious you both are to me, and how much you have influenced and shaped my life. I had never before even attempted to imagine my life without you, and it is still very hard to conceive. You have been such a constant, a rock of stability, wisdom and comfort in my sometimes turbulent existence. It is impossible to thank you for everything you’ve done for me in the last 29 years, but I wanted to at least make a feeble attempt. Thank you for instilling in me a love of nature, a curiosity about the world and love of exploring new places. Thank you for teaching me about family and unconditional love. Thank you for accepting my faults and encouraging my strengths. Thank you for giving me a sense of pride in my identity and heritage. Thank you for living your lives and loving each other in a manner so worthy of emulation. Thank you for teaching me, by your example, how to be a responsible and decent human being. I am so fortunate to have been born into such a wonderful family!

I love you both very, very much. Have a wonderful Christmas, and I’ll see you soon!

love, Evelyn

Last, we have a note written by Julie, the oldest grandchild, including the thoughts of one of the great-grandchildren.

A Grandpa Moment

We’ve all had those moments. Sometimes it was just a couple of minutes, sometimes much longer. For as long as I can remember, whenever we visited out at the river, Grandpa would make a point of connecting with me – sharing some "alone time" as my own children would say whenever they wanted to have exclusive adult attention without the other sibling around.

Sometimes it was a little lesson about life, sometimes it was a remark about the nature around us, sometimes it was a story about his own life, but always it started with a few questions about how we were doing. Whatever the question, it was always asked as if he really wanted to know. Then he listened to the answer as if we had all the time in the world.

He listened with a kind of openness that is rarely found in human conversation. Most of us can hardly wait to hold up our end of the conversation, some of us don’t even bother to wait and choose instead to barge right in. Grandpa always waited his turn, and he was so absorbed in hearing what I had to say that sometimes I thought he must not be listening because I couldn’t feel the "it’s my turn to talk" vibes. But he heard absolutely everything.

Not only that, because I didn’t have to compete with Grandpa for airtime when I conversed with him, it turned out that this created a magical space for me to hear myself. I became conscious of what I was saying, and if I was putting on airs, I heard the wind howl; if I was weaving a tale, I heard the clanging of the chain that held the invisible leg-iron, growing heavier with each sentence. But the best of all, when I was recounting a true accomplishment, I felt my own pride and heard the song of the angels in a moment of utter bliss. It was this kind of moment that I most sought for with Grandpa.

When I told my 7 year old daughter about Grandpa’s passing, she told me about her memories of Great Grandpa. She remembered that a good number of us –too many in fact -- went out on the pontoon boat with Grandpa for an afternoon swim on the sandbar and nearly sank the boat on our way back. Does she remember anything else about our summer visit? I would ask, and she thought for a moment.

"Oh yes! And he played the rhyming game with me when he took me down to check the boat once."

"What was one of grandpa’s rhymes, do you remember?" I asked.

" Yeah, he said a really silly thing: Did you ever see a Goat, driving a Boat? "

And for a sweet instant, I basked in the sunshine of my daughter’s "Grandpa Moment."