Just last week I announced that I would be writing again. My intention was to release my first post since last summer later this afternoon. Over the weekend my Grandfather, George Homula, passed away at age 93. Rather than make that first post, I hope you will forgive me and indulge me as I spend a few minutes remembering him.
My Grandfather was a strong and hard working man who I always looked up to, loved and respected. He was a simple man really, someone who did not need the excesses of this world or anything more than what he had to be happy. He was always so very healthy, vibrant and alive and as a young boy I looked at him and thought him larger than life. He lived a long and healthy life (93 years) which, in some small way, takes some of the edge off the pain of losing him.
I am, in part, named after him and for that I am immensely honored and proud. When his wife (my Grandmother Helen) died far too young, he knew the hurt that caused for me and my sister and showed us love like he never did prior to that day. After she passed Grandpa really went out of his way to spend more time with us and never missed an opportunity to tell us how much he loved us, something that was hard for him to share prior to my Grandmothers death. This man, who found it so hard to express love and emotion, put aside his difficulty with showing love and emotion to give it to his Grandchildren when he knew we needed it. My Grandmother was a very kind and sensitive woman and somehow my Grandfather knew that after she died he had to fill in for that in some way. He did!
He led an interesting and full life and was full of great stories with an indelible way of sharing them. His story telling always made me smile and laugh from deep down in my gut and I am confident he had that same effect on others. His laughter, genuine and jovial, was infectious and you just couldn't help but smile when Grandpa did.
He was larger than life to me for so long. He was a small man in terms of height but as a boy I saw him as a big and strong man, riding along on his tractor mowing grass, tending to his garden and generally working and tinkering with everything. Honestly it seemed there wasn't anything he couldn't fix. My mom reminded me that just last fall he wanted to climb up on his roof to fix it. He was determined he could still do it. To be honest, I wouldn't have been surprised if he did do it. He was stubborn, but in a way that really endeared him to me. It was sort of this iron will to get things done and to not back down that I saw in his stubborn streak. As frustrating as that can be I found it admirable at times.
When my sister Michelle and I were little he and my Grandmother would often stay the night at our house on Christmas Eve. We were their only Grandchildren and that was really cool to us. All Grandparents are special and love their Grandchildren in a way only they can. But having a set of Grandparents all to yourself, without having to share, is an experience unlike any other and one I seem to truly appreciate only now as I reflect back on it. How my Grandfather put up with my sister and I waking him up to open presents before the sun came up each Christmas morning I do not know. But he always did and came back for more every year.
To my sister and I he became known as "Grandpa Tractor" because it just seemed he was always riding along on that bright orange tractor. It is an enduring image I will always have of my Grandfather - strong, virile, smiling, slightly tanned from the sun and riding along on that bright orange machine all around his property. That was cool to me and I couldn't wait to get a chance to jump on that thing with him. Even better, I couldn't wait to get to drive it myself. I still remember, vividly, the day he let me drive it. It was like a rite of passage for a boy. Getting to climb up on that tractor and sit in the very seat my Grandfather occupied all the time made me feel big and strong like him. I am sure I barely payed attention as he gave me instructions on what all the gears and knobs were for and the last thing he said was "don't go too fast". Yeah right! I couldn't wait to open this bright orange tractor up and see what she was made of. I tore out, leaving marks in his well manicured grass, and set out on my adventure. He laughed a bit and scolded me a bit as only a Grandfather can do in perfect balance. I never forgot that day.
One other thing, my Grandfather did organic farming before organic farming was cool and all the rage. I remember he collected rain water in giant trash cans from his shed and had the nastiest, smelliest compost heap you could ever imagine near his garden. Wow did that thing smell. There just wasn't any waste. I didn't get it then but looking back on it everything worked in harmony together and he used what God had given him to tend an amazing garden. One of my fondest memories of being a boy at Grandpa's was seeing he and my Grandmother working in that garden together. I can close my eyes now and see them smiling and working together in that sun filled garden. Then they would bring the food they had grown into the house so my Grandmother could make the most amazing meals. Grandma Tractor (yeah that is what we called her...it only made sense) was an incredible cook. I am still wishing I could find that Custard Pie recipe of hers!
Even as my Grandfather aged and his body grew weak, becoming just a remnant of the physically strong man he once was, I still viewed him as larger than life because of how he dealt with and coped with aging. Grandpa Tractor just never seemed old to me until the last few months of his life. It made the moment I saw him as "old" really tough to take and hard to watch. That said, Grandpa was so graceful in how he aged and I honestly NEVER heard him complain once; just cracking a joke and laughing about how he was "getting along" a bit slower and needed help from time to time. Come to think of it, that is just another example of how strong he remained even as his body was less strong physically.
My Grandfather is in heaven. I know this because of what he believed. There is no more pain or hardship for him. He no longer has to deal with aging and not being capable of doing all he once did. There are no more pills to take or doctors to see. His strength and physical prowess having been restored by a God that loves him and the world enough to give up His only Son so we can all have eternal life...if only we believe.
He did. He trusted. He believed.
His pain is gone, his frail body restored to its youthful virility, he is with my Grandmother again and I know he is telling a story and making others laugh and smile while they all sing out and praise God.
I love you Grandpa! You left more of an impression on me than you ever knew. I will miss you but I know I am going to see you again someday!
>
