On Borrowed Time

My Papa passed away last night, sometime in his sleep.

I remember a couple of years ago at Christmas time, thinking, this might be the last Christmas that the whole family is together. It was obvious my Papa was getting old, sick. True to his form, he kept on ticking, through hospital stay after hospital stay. Part of me wonders why he died, and the other part of my doesn't even want to wonder. His medication had just changed and for the first time in years, his attention level was sharp, he didn't slur his words, and he had better stability. I like to think he was feeling better, too. Instead of thinking of the past few years, our borrowed time, my mind thinks back to the Papa I remember as a child...

He was a Korean War veteran, although, he was quick to point out that he was more intelligent than his superior officers and frequented the officer hang outs. In fact, he was invited by the officers to hang out with them. He was also quick to point out that he was drafted at the end of the war and really didn't have to go anywhere. He just did his two year's obligatory service and took the veteran perks that went along with serving.

My Papa also referred to himself as S.O.B. He was born Robert and went by Bob. As a kid, I didn't understand why he was called an S.O.B. or why he thought it was so funny. I eventually learned what S.O.B. stood for, but growing up, I thought it meant, "Sweet, Old, Bob" 'cause that's what my Papa said it meant.

I don't think I ever remember seeing my Papa wear anything but Mexican wedding shirts. His top pockets were filled with pens, including a pocket protector, his checkbook, and papers. His bottom pockets were filled with candy. As a kid, we would run up to him and reach into his bottom pockets and see what candy he had. I don't remember what kind we ate, but I do remember always reaching into those pockets and pulling out a sweet treat.

Every Christmas, my Papa would give us the same gift. Each of the grandchildren received an ornament. He would pick out our ornaments and I remember them being wrapped so beautifully. Not because he wrapped them himself, but because he paid the store to gift wrap them. For as long as I can remember, opening his ornament was my favorite gift to open on Christmas. We already knew it was an ornament, but seeing what he picked out was the fun part. I've got sleigh bells, silver clowns, small wooden ornaments, Lenox, Wedgwood, Swarovski crystal, and Waterford crystal ornaments. I've got hand-blown and hand-painted ornaments. I even have a plastic Hawaiian girl. Each year, hanging up the previous year's ornament was a thrill, and this next Christmas I will happily do the same. Thankfully, my mother made certain to date and categorize each ornament for us.

My Papa sold pepper for the Shriner's. He would bring over a case of pepper to my parent's house every year. He brought over so many jars of pepper that we would have never gone through them all. I think my parents ended up giving them away to friends, but every year, their supply was refilled by my Papa. I still have some of that pepper...Another thing he sold for the Shriner's was GIANT coloring books. Each kid would get one. In my child mind, I remember them being like five feet tall, but I could carry it around so I know it was not that big. Maybe it was three feet...

My Papa loved to sing and he had quite a singing voice. Often, he would sing in his booming bass voice to songs on the radio. His voice was so overpowering that he would cover up all the music and anyone else singing.

When I was a kid, my Papa would tickle me. I didn't realize until many, many years later what this little conversation meant. Let me recap.

me: "Papa, stop tickling me!"
papa: "What?"
me: "Stop!"
papa: "What? Me tickle you?"
me: "YES!!!"
papa: "OK!"

And then we would continue to tickle me saying I'd given him permission. I insisted that I told him to stop, but I do realize he tricked me into inviting him to tickle me.

I remember my Papa supporting me through college. The first thing he did, was upgrade my clarinet. My parents had spent their income tax refund one year to buy me a Buffet R-13, but it was from 1968 and since I was studying music in college, it was time for an upgrade. We sold my old clarinet and I got a brand new Buffet! I remember taking the plastic off the clarinet and "test driving" three or four in an echo chamber to select the perfect one. My Papa paid the differential in the price of the old and new clarinets. Without the combination of my Papa and parents, I would not have been blessed with my clarinet, which cost more than my first car... Another thing he did was help me with my last year of school. It was my fifth year, the Air Force didn't pay for fifth year music majors, and all my other scholarships had run out. I turned to my Papa. He didn't think twice about cutting me a check for $5,000 to cover my tuition. And I'm not the only grandchild he did this for. He helped my brother out in college, too. And to share his love of giving, he bought Kristina a rifle. She's a hunter and a rifle fit right into her dreams! That was just his personality - to support us no matter what. With Katie, he would proudly show off her latest program performance to anyone and everyone who would listen.

When college graduation finally became a reality for me, my Papa joked and saluted me after I got my commission. He was enlisted and thought it would be funny to salute his granddaughter. Every time I saw my Papa, he would mention how he had to salute me - even after I separated from the Air Force.

It's hard to believe it's over. It's hard to think that he's actually gone. The first person in my life, that's been there for my entire life, has passed.

I am grateful for borrowed time.
I am grateful for all the memories.
Well miss you, you S.O.B.