My Grandfather… Pepaw.

Images @Brandeelottphotography

Images taken in the Mississippi, Delta. Home of the Delta Blues.

 Disclaimer: I am not professional of any sort, I do not give “professional”  or  “medical” advice, my blogs are simply my religious beliefs, biblical devotions, and personal opinions.

My Grandfather. Pepaw.

It’s sort of crazy…

You can spend a lifetime knowing a man —
and still spend a lifetime never fully knowing him.

Meet my grandfather.

Ken.

Pepaw to all of us kids.

I spent most of my life trying to figure him out. He was hard. Reserved. Never one to show much emotion. Dry humor. Grumbled a lot. Wanted things HIS way.

The older I got, the more my patience for his behavior dwindled. But as much as it dwindled… I never stopped feeling attached to him. Its kinda funny- because if you know me…. that’s not really me.

I guess that’s the thing about grandpas.

Or maybe just mine.

He didn’t always say “I love you” out loud.
He didn’t always hug the longest.
He didn’t always explain himself.

If we had a holiday, a birthday, any celebration that didn’t include him and my grandmother — it just didn’t feel right. Something was missing. His presence filled a room even when he didn’t say much at all.

He was born on Christmas Day. A Christmas baby. The whole world decorated for him every year — lights, trees, gatherings. I’m not sure if he really felt that way… but it did.

Growing up, one of the memories that sticks the strongest is that old Aggravation game.

Didn’t matter what we were celebrating. Didn’t matter if we weren’t celebrating a thing. That worn-out cardboard box would come out. The sides of the box that the game came in were busted and taped back together.

He was always the blue marbles.
Didn’t matter what you wanted — those little blue marbles were his.

If you know the game, you know…
To get a man “out,” you had to roll a six or a one.
If you took the middle shortcut, the only way out was with a one.

I can still see it clear as day —
Pepaw shaking those dice in his hand, giving them a quick blow for luck and declaring in that firm voice,
“Comin’ out.”

Usually followed by a loud “Ahhh!” if it wasn’t a six or a one.

He’d grumble. We’d laugh. And somehow, that was love. It was our way of love and I think that is what I realized over the years.

Grandpas have a way of teaching you things without ever sitting you down for a lesson.

You learn by watching.
By listening. By being around them.

I remember the smell of his garage.
The blue lawn chairs hanging on the wall.
The oil cans on the counter with rags that I swear never moved.

I remember his big collection of vitamins — he had a natural remedy for just about everything. He might not have been overly affectionate, but he was pepaw.

Grandpas don’t always show softness the way grandmas do.
But Pepaws sweetness showed up in steadiness. And it showed up differently with my kid. He loved him… I could feel it.

He was exactly who he was every single time.

Pepaw passed away the day after his 90th birthday.

He was a veteran. A paratrooper during the Korean War. A barber. A father. A grandfather.

He was Pepaw.

And we loved a good game of Ag.

It’s been a while since we’ve heard his voice… and I have to say, we sure do miss him.

We miss the grumbling.
The dice shaking.
The blue marbles.

But we’re keeping the game going.

TA is already yelling at the board over the ones — just like you used to.

And I’d like to think somewhere, you’re still the blue marbles…
still shaking those dice…
still “comin’ out.”