My boys LOVED their Poppa C! They were his side kicks. He got them hooked on Kentucky basketball, introduced them to pork rinds, tried to get them to drink tomato juice, and told them how to plant, weed, and harvest a garden.
Poppa bought Isaac his first bass guitar and couldn’t wait to hear him play his first “real” notes on it. He let Creed spend countless, wasted hours in front of the television, just so he could get out of doing anything…
He was their Poppa.
He had nicknames for the younger grandgirls. Stinkpots 1, 2, and 3. He loved to tease each and every one of them and they ate it up.
It’s been a few weeks now since Poppa C passed away. Needless to say, the kids were crushed. Everyone’s lives have changed, but the change is different for the younger ones. No one will ever understand death, but explaining it to a child, impossible. It’s an unquenchable curiosity. The answer is never right or enough.
My boys were honorary pallbearers. They dressed in their very best suits, combed their hair over in the way that Poppa had so many times before, and walked behind the casket like little men. He would have been so proud of them.
Questions and comments still come everyday. “Momma, why did Poppa have to die?”, “I miss Poppa.”, “I wish Poppa didn’t die.”… I don’t always know what to say. The other day, Creed, my eight year old son, said, “Mom, if I call Poppa’s cell phone, will he answer it?”… That is how hard it has been on them. He just wanted to talk to his Poppa.
Our children do have the peace of knowing that Poppa C is in Heaven. He was a Christian man who shared the faith of Jesus Christ every where he went and with anyone. They know that they will see him again when we all get to Heaven.