Pops
My grandfather lived for the past 88 years. He was born into a wealthy family in Evanston. He married my grandmother after he served in the navy in World War II. He had one daughter, and then four sons. His daughter died when she was a baby. All of his sons are still alive, and have given their parents 12 grandchildren, and 11 great-grandchildren (and still counting). We called him Pops. When Pops was surrounded by his family, he’d often exclaim, “How sweet it is!”
As a child, Pops spent a lot of time in the outdoors, especially in the boundary waters north of Minnesota. He went to summer camp up there, and all of his sons, and some of his grandsons went to that camp as well. When he married my grandmother, they spent 2 weeks up there in a tent for part of their honeymoon. Eventually, they bought some property up there, on the Canadian side. Our family still owns that property. We call it the Island. A lot of our birthdays are in April because the boundary waters are nicest in July. The Island is my favorite spot on this planet. I take my wife and kids there every summer. They love it too.
Pops was a sailor. In 7th and 8th grade, I lived near Evanston. I spent a lot of time with Pops in those summers, serving as his first mate during sailboat races. I don’t remember winning, but I remember the sun, the water, the misty breeze, and the amazing feeling you get when the boat is in perfect tension and cuts through the water. Pops loved to teach, and everything I know about sailing, I learned from him.
Pops was also a skier. My grandparents owned a house in Colorado, and that’s where I learned to ski, along with all of my siblings and cousins. Pops had to stop downhill skiing a long time ago, but did a lot of cross-country skiing. I love skiing fast, so cross-country seemed like it would be boring. But when we spent a day cross-country skiing with Pops, I was amazed at how stunning the scenery was. Some of our best times as an extended family were had in Colorado. At least once during each reunion, Pops would have a little speech for us after dinner. He’d compliment our grandmother, and finish with “How sweet it is!”
Two weeks ago, Pops had a stroke. My dad and I went to see him. He was in bad shape. He had to work hard just to speak. There are three memories I’ll always cherish from my time with Pops in the hospital.
First, was his humor. The first time I visited him in the hospital, he was cracking jokes any chance he could get. I learned a lot about life, watching the way he chose to behave in his final week. His spirit was strong, and you could see it in his persistent humor.
Second, was his love for his family. As my uncle, my dad, and I got up to leave at the end of my first visit, Pops launched into an emotional plea to us, particularly to my uncle. He was hard to understand, and I didn’t have a lot of context into what he was talking about, but the overall message was clear: It was incredibly important to Pops that his family stay connected, led by his sons, acting like a team.
Last, I’ll never forget his final words to me, as we held hands, the day before he died. “Keep doing what you know is right.” The backdrop of this advice is the past year of my life, which has been simultaneously the absolute worst and absolute best year I’ve ever lived. Coming out of that year, it’s a priceless treasure to have my grandfather express that sort of confidence in me. Thanks, Pops. I love you.
How sweet it is.
