Bye, bye grandpop

My parents called this morning. My grandfather died at 96.

He’s been very ill the past few weeks. But, damn. 96. Just for making it that long…

His father lived to his late 90s, too. Kind of nice to have those genes.

He had his own unique way about him. My grandmother, who died about 12 years ago, was in all sense the matriarch. Very much beloved. My grandfather? His exterior was, well, rough.

He was very competitive with my grandmother’s brothers. Whatever, they had, he had to have more. It seemed to carry through to all relationships.

I must admit, I was a little tired of the way he treated my father (my grandpop was my mom’s father). See, my father was always there to help. He was beloved by my grandmother and was essential to making the family gatherings successful. It helped that my parents and grandparents lived a block apart.

I think my grandfather might have been jealous of my dad because of how much he helped out at my grandparents’ house.

There was a time when my dad decided he’d had enough of my grandfather’s antics and stayed away for some time. But whenever my grandmother called, my dad was there to help out. The “feud” eventually ended. We’re all family, after all.

I had not seen my grandfather very much the past few years. He liked to ask questions — too many — and sometimes made some remarks that could really hurt my feelings. I didn’t want to subject my kids to that. The kids got to know him some; I didn’t keep them away because my grandfather’s part of their history and they needed to know him. I must say he was sweet to them. Unfortunately, he’d been ill for so long that all they could do was talk to him and hug him.

But when I look back at his life and how he grew up, I can’t blame him for how he was. And even though I wasn’t around him much lately, I loved him.

He was a WWII vet. He and my grandmother raised eight kids. They helped build a church. He lived a full and productive life and was respected by the entire community. He was a good man. Surly, but a good man nonetheless.

His passing is not as painful as I would have expected. He was ill. I would not want to live with the pain he’s endured the past few years. His pain is gone. He’s at peace.

For me, his legacy will be his family. I love all my aunts and uncles. They’re wacky, but they all have good hearts.

William Everett Jenkins. Thanks for being my grandfather. Thanks for giving me life. I love you.