...is always a tough week for me.
I know that it's my birthday week - but to me, that is just another day. I don't feel any older today now that I have turned the whoppin' age of 34. It's just a day. I didn't cry.
People celebrate birthdays every day of the year, and I do enjoy spending the time with my family. Tonight, we celebrated by going out to eat and then coming home and I played in the floor with my beautiful wife and my best little buddy - Keaton! Great night! Great celebration!
To me, it's not tough to turn another year older. I didn't cry.
Where it gets tough for me is looking back 16 years ago - to 1995.
I was a senior at Olney High School. I had my future ahead of me. I was looking forward to college at ACU. I was ready to take the next step into adulthood. To become more independent. To make my own choices. To make my own name. To set out into this great big world God made for us and see what would happen with me and God. I was forging a new step – and I didn’t cry.
But it wasn't that easy. You see, 16 years ago this week - I lost my biggest buddy. A guy that loved me for who I was. A guy who taught me how to build things. A guy that taught me how to love others. A guy who set a great example for me as to what a Godly man looks like, acts like, talks like, prays like, studies like and is like. I lost my Grandad.
I am pretty sure he knew as soon as I left their house that day he passed. I had been there for almost a week and left to return to Olney to finish some yearbook pages. I am pretty sure he knew I was gone. And it wasn't too long after I had returned to the school building in Olney that my dad called and told me mom had called with the news. I don't think he wanted me there when he passed. I think he wanted to protect me. At least, that is what I tell myself - but I didn't cry.
I remember growing up, every night Granny would fix the coffee grounds in the pot. I used to think it was because it would be easy in the morning for her to push the button. But now, I'm not too sure that she didn't do it out of service. I remember the door bell ringing at all hours of the night, and both Granny and Grandad would put on their robes - and while he answered the door, she went and pushed the coffee on. He always gave of himself, and Granny continues to do so to this day.
I remember lots of things about this man I continue to love. He was a friend to all and a counselor to many. I don't think he ever knew a stranger, and more over, he was always there to lend a helping hand. He was wise. He was Godly. He was the very essence of a true man.
I didn't really cry too much when he passed. I held it all in. I was supposed to be the strong one. I needed to be there for Granny and Mom and Jami and Tami and Dad. He told me as he was getting sick that I was to help keep the family focused on God. To keep His light shining. To make sure that God was always in the center of our lives. He also told me to watch over his lovely wife and his only daughter. I am not sure I have done that as well as I should have been doing... I pray that I do that more in the future. But that week - I was going to be the strong one.
It lasted through most of the funeral. I still hadn't cried. I was still being the strong one. With Granny to my right and mom to my left, I held their hands. We sang, we prayed, we heard stories, I think I even wrote a poem that was read. Grandad was the master poet, though. I like to think I got his wordsmith capabilities – but I am nowhere near the poet he was. And I still hadn’t cried.
I broke down a little bit during a song, but I held it together. That is until people started filing by, and it was close to the end of the line when I realized – I would never see him again. This was it. Then the tears poured. I was no longer holding on. I was drowning. I did cry.
I had been to funerals before. I had lost loved ones before, but for some reason – this really hit me. He was my closest friend, my buddy, my pal, my Grandad. And now, he was gone.
And I miss him still. But even though I knew it then – I believe it even more now. That was not a “goodbye”. It was a “See you later.” I will see him again, and I try to live my life everyday so that will happen.
I have no doubt that I will see him again on high. And when I do, I will cry tears of joy.
I think about Grandad often – especially this time of year. I know he would love Leslye like his own granddaughter (that was one my prerequisites – that my granddad would have had to have loved my future bride). I know he would love to play with his great-grandchild, Keaton, and have him be his new little buddy.
I hope all the time that if he was still here he would be proud of me. I can hear him saying something about it right now, just like he used to when he was alive. I try to live by his example, but I also know he would tell me right here and right now to not live by his example, but by God’s because (and I know it is true) my Grandad was not perfect. But I can tell you this – he was as close to perfect as I have ever known. And yes, Grandad, I do try to live by God's example, but your's, too.
He inspired me to be a great man, a great Christian, a great friend, a great husband, a great daddy and eventually, a great Grandad!
I am not sure exactly why I choose to write this blog today other than every once in a while we have to pay tribute.
On Monday, this nation will celebrate Memorial Day to honor the men and women who have fought and continue to fight for our freedom. Grandad did that. FCO 3/c Joseph Ralph Minor entered the Navy in 1944 and served on the Midway. He was awarded Victory, AT and AP Ribbons and was discharged in 1946. I thank him, and all who have bravely served our country!
But I also needed to pay tribute to Grandad for what he has done and continues to do for me. I see his example in my head and heart each day. He was a great man.
I started writing a song about him one time, but I don’t believe I have ever finished it, but he gist of the chorus falls into my closing.
Though for me, I am still growing and learning and searching for what God has in store, I know that I have had an example that has been through even more.
He was called many names from friend, counselor, Christian and Grandad, but there is one thing that I know – no matter what anyone else called him, I know him as my HERO.
I love you Grandad!
