Papa

(I wrote this over a week ago but have not had a chance to publish until today)

Wednesday morning, August 8th, 2012
Yesterday (a year to the day of my Nanny's funeral), we laid my sweet Papa to rest in a Military Burial with Full Honors, the highest level of ceremony for a veteran. It was so special and such a tribute to him, and all the men and women who serve our country. Soldiers from all ranks and branches of the military participated in the service, the moving of the casket, the 21-gun salute and playing of TAPS. It was moving, awe-inspiring and fitting for a man who flew 83 combat missions for the Air Force in WWII.

I was particularly impressed with the respect the participating veterans showed my grandmother, the woman who stood with him for 69 years. They knelt when speaking to her, presenting the flag to her and treated her with such kindness and gentility, thanking her over and over for her part in her husband's service to our country. Three different officers visibly teared up as they told her they had flown special flags in their yards the night before in honor of Papa. These were men that had never even met him, but the shared bond of love and service to country touched them that deep.

As my sister said, Papa was one of the greatest of The Greatest Generation. He served his country bravely and honorably. He came home to his family and worked for the same company until retirement. Together, he and Grandmother raised three kids- my dad, my Uncle Scott and my Aunt Toni. Toni was born with cerebral palsy and spent her entire life under my grandparents' care. She was born at a time when doctors encouraged institutionalization for such cases but my grandparents never considered it. While her developmental age was that of an infant, she outlived her life expectancy of 10 years by almost six decades. There was very little freedom or rest for my grandparents but I remember my sweet Papa speaking at her funeral just a few years ago, saying, "Toni was never a burden. Never. Toni was a JOY." And he meant it.

At the funeral home for his visitation, I was struck by how much the body didn't look like my Papa. Too thin. Too... empty. It was just a body. Just a shell of skin and tired muscles and frail bones. A life fully lived but the body was dead. Papa wasn't there. Without his soul, his body barely resembled the Papa I knew.

The Papa I knew was hilarious. Mischievious. A prankster with a glint in his eye and a quick, dry wit.

The Papa I knew was faithful. Steadfast. Loyal to country and home and family. He adored his wife. In his last days, he cried out several times for his "Dollbaby" from the hospital bed. The nurses thought it was just senility until my uncle explained that's what he called my Grandmother- and the two planes he named after her.

The Papa I knew was enthusiastic and playful. He took me to the zoo and played croquet in the backyard. He wrestled and tickled and chased us. He did back handsprings well into his 70's, until my grandmother finally put her foot down. Even from his hospital bed, Papa played princesses with my little girl.

Mostly, the Papa I knew loved the Lord. He sought the Lord. He loved Truth and God's Word. He was a good man, but he wasn't perfect. He has failures and shortcomings in his past, as all men do. But he loved a God greater than those failures. In his dying days, he sang the Lord's prayer. Loudly. When they were moving him to the VA hospital, he called out, "Does everyone here know the Lord??" The preacher said yesterday that oftentimes at the end of life, your truest, deepest self comes to the surface. For Papa, his truest self loved his family, called out for his sweetheart and praised the Lord.

Today an empty 92-year-old body lies in the earth. Sam asked yesterday on the way home from the funeral, "Since Papa's old man body is in the ground now, will he have his young man body in heaven?" And I believe he does. I believe he is doing back handsprings for Jesus. Visiting with my Nanny. And dancing with his daughter for the first time ever.

"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" 1 Corinthians 15:55

"Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not He who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's." Psalm 103:1-5