Thursday, February 14, 2008

Right or Left?

I haven't told one of my life stories in awhile, so here it goes. Actually this isn't a story about MY life per se, but my Mom's life that I heard at my grandfather's funeral.

There are a lot of things I remember about my grandfathers funeral (10 years ago), but one thing that sticks out was a story the pastor told about him. My mom was one of five girls, all two years apart. Apparently when they were little my grandparents would take them out for ice cream on Sundays....sometimes. There was an intersection in the road home from church and if my grandfather turned the car left they were going home and if he went right the girls knew it was ice cream time. However, he couldn't do this every Sunday and of course the girls always whined when they didn't get their weekly treat. My grandfather would always tell them it was because someone wasn't good that week, etc, etc and that the ice cream was a reward so they didn't get it. In reality, as we learned at his funeral, my grandfather always felt extremely guilty on the Sunday's he couldn't get his babies ice cream....the truth was he couldn't afford the .10 cents a cone that week. He always wanted the best for his girls, and he felt guilty over .50 cents. Fifty cents made him feel like a bad father on those weeks he had to turn left, and he talked about it to his paster and friend years later.

I like this story for several reasons, all of which I am sure cannot be captured in a blog. Number one, it lets me in on a story about my grandfather I didn't know before, and I always appreciate that (sort of like the time I found out he was the 2nd wave on the beaches of Normandy). Number two, it seems crazy to me that he felt so bad over that ice cream considering the wonderful man, husband, father, and grandfather he was. However, just the fact he felt guilty over something so silly shows what a wonderful person he was. He was a great man, and I consider myself lucky to be his granddaughter because knowing someone like that makes you want to be a better person, and I still catch myself wondering if he would be proud.

1 comment:

MDShamrocks07 said...

That's a sweet story, Kat. My grandfather was like that too; providing for 6 kids and never once got fed up and left. He worked for everything he got (which wasn't much, but it was enough) and he built his house from the ground up. He died when I was 4, but I still find myself remembering when he called me "kiddo" and all the ice cream he bought me.

He's one of my biggest inspirations and hero's and that makes me want to work even harder to make him proud.

I know ~exactly~ where you're coming from.