I sat down at the end of the breakfast table this morning with my bowl of cereal. Lucye looked up at me, and then had a pained look on her face. Both Robert and I rushed to her side and inquired as to what was wrong. Was her throat hurting? What on earth was wrong? She said only this: “Mommy sat down with her cereal in Poppa’s chair.”
Lucye’s Grandfather Eitel, or “Poppa” as all his grandchildren called him, went to heaven on February 9th of this year. Right now, Lucye only knows that Poppa went to visit his Father.
We have to remind her daily it seems that is where he is. Every time a frog is mentioned or spotted (which is actually a frequent thing—usually stuffed, in books, or on the TV), Lucye tells us the frog needs to go get in Grandma’s pond and then she (Lucye) will stir the pond plants with a stick and find the octopus (a plant that grows deep and does, in fact, look as though it has arms) and then asks if or when she can show it to Poppa. She likes to show him the ones with one eye open and one eye closed.
She often remarks that Poppa is still sleeping. He was usually the last one to the breakfast table in the mornings, or asleep in a den chair. I think it was thanks to him that she learned to be quiet—or at least as quiet as she can be.
If the DHA works as well as we think it might, Lucye may have very specific memories of Poppa. Just recently, he had played “crab” with her using his fingers to chase her across the kitchen table. She really enjoyed that and laughed, never growing tired of it.
They were really starting to have fun. From his chair they could toss around the mini GT footballs. One day he showed her a Time magazine that had an old, deflated football on the cover, and she still talks about how Poppa has the picture of a sad, tired football.
Last summer during the beach trip, he fell in the surf line of waves and got wet. She was very worried, even though he laughed about it at the time. All summer long, or anytime the beach trip is mentioned, she still says “Poppa won’t fall in the water this time.” In a strange way, I’m glad one of her memories will be of him in the saltwater. Being anywhere near the ocean was his idea of paradise.
Lucye hugged him good-bye when we left Savannah on Saturday, February 6th. We had been there for a week for her to visit her grandparents. The last time we saw him was while he was standing at the front door waving good-bye as our car pulled away.
My job now is to create a compilation of his many architectural projects so that when she is older, she can visit specific houses and buildings around Savannah to get a sense of his life’s work. It goes without saying that to capture the essence of his character will be a greater challenge. His childhood friends will tell you he was “pure delight” to be around. He was always up for good clean fun, and often the most amusing person in the room.
As his daughter, I can tell Lucye he was the most giving man I’ve ever experienced, but one needs lots of concrete examples to get a real feel for that sort of thing. If you attended his funeral, you probably understood as real people told stories of his generosity that even many family members didn’t know about—because he rarely let anyone but the recipient know. That was my father.
I look up to the heavens, and I talk to my Dad sometimes. But when I look down, I see Lucye. I do believe she has inherited his love of life and easy laughter. And she is very loving as well. Lucye, even though I know you are your own person, I still can’t help but stare into your blue eyes and desperately look for my Dad. I don’t have to look long, because I know he’s in there….part of you and part of me, always.
Lucye’s Grandfather Eitel, or “Poppa” as all his grandchildren called him, went to heaven on February 9th of this year. Right now, Lucye only knows that Poppa went to visit his Father.
We have to remind her daily it seems that is where he is. Every time a frog is mentioned or spotted (which is actually a frequent thing—usually stuffed, in books, or on the TV), Lucye tells us the frog needs to go get in Grandma’s pond and then she (Lucye) will stir the pond plants with a stick and find the octopus (a plant that grows deep and does, in fact, look as though it has arms) and then asks if or when she can show it to Poppa. She likes to show him the ones with one eye open and one eye closed.
She often remarks that Poppa is still sleeping. He was usually the last one to the breakfast table in the mornings, or asleep in a den chair. I think it was thanks to him that she learned to be quiet—or at least as quiet as she can be.
If the DHA works as well as we think it might, Lucye may have very specific memories of Poppa. Just recently, he had played “crab” with her using his fingers to chase her across the kitchen table. She really enjoyed that and laughed, never growing tired of it.
They were really starting to have fun. From his chair they could toss around the mini GT footballs. One day he showed her a Time magazine that had an old, deflated football on the cover, and she still talks about how Poppa has the picture of a sad, tired football.
Last summer during the beach trip, he fell in the surf line of waves and got wet. She was very worried, even though he laughed about it at the time. All summer long, or anytime the beach trip is mentioned, she still says “Poppa won’t fall in the water this time.” In a strange way, I’m glad one of her memories will be of him in the saltwater. Being anywhere near the ocean was his idea of paradise.
Lucye hugged him good-bye when we left Savannah on Saturday, February 6th. We had been there for a week for her to visit her grandparents. The last time we saw him was while he was standing at the front door waving good-bye as our car pulled away.
My job now is to create a compilation of his many architectural projects so that when she is older, she can visit specific houses and buildings around Savannah to get a sense of his life’s work. It goes without saying that to capture the essence of his character will be a greater challenge. His childhood friends will tell you he was “pure delight” to be around. He was always up for good clean fun, and often the most amusing person in the room.
As his daughter, I can tell Lucye he was the most giving man I’ve ever experienced, but one needs lots of concrete examples to get a real feel for that sort of thing. If you attended his funeral, you probably understood as real people told stories of his generosity that even many family members didn’t know about—because he rarely let anyone but the recipient know. That was my father.
I look up to the heavens, and I talk to my Dad sometimes. But when I look down, I see Lucye. I do believe she has inherited his love of life and easy laughter. And she is very loving as well. Lucye, even though I know you are your own person, I still can’t help but stare into your blue eyes and desperately look for my Dad. I don’t have to look long, because I know he’s in there….part of you and part of me, always.
1 comment:
Very touching post, Aud. I hope you and your family are all doing as well as can be expected. --Chris
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