I wasn’t there the day my grandpa died. So I couldn’t tell you the look on his face. If I knew him like I think I did, his eyebrows were probably slightly raised and he wore a small grin. It was a famous look really. If you knew him a day in your life you would know the face. Whether he was telling you a fish story or a story while fishing, you hung on every word – true as true can be – but always waiting for those eyebrows to go up and that grin to shine through to know if you had been duped.
I guess anyone with the nickname “Whit” oghtobe pretty good at holding your attention and even better at making you laugh. I can promise you he was both. For as far back as I can remember he was there. Teaching. Laughing. Discovering and Loving. I could tell you stories of his stories that would have you on the edge of your seat. Whether he was chancing death on his Harley “Skull Crusher,” flying high above the clouds, or teaching me how to love and treat a family, the story was good but the lesson was even better.
To say that he was a “good man” is to sell him short and to show undeserving honor to some who would be given the same title. To say that he was a “great man” begs the questions Why? After all, the why is the most important. In this case, the why defining the “great man” could be written from many different perspectives – a father, a son, a husband, a friend, a comrade etc. I write as his grandson.
The why is often overlooked or undervalued especially in a time when so many emotions cloud pure reflection. The why is the details of “great.” The why paints the picture of “great” one stroke at a time. We can all marvel at the complexity of a Van Gough or the mastery of The David and get a sense of its message. But the grandeur of it all came one thoughtful stroke after another – a true thing of beauty. This is where life happens. This is where “great men” are defined.
My grandpa’s masterpiece is filled with color. The why of his life is passionately played out on his canvass. It’s an intricate and beautiful story themed in love, kindness, passion, bravery, and adventure. The strokes are very familiar to my own. What would be the point of knowing and loving a great man if you did not attempt to emulate his greatness. I consider myself lucky to have lived so close to the strokes of my grandpa’s life. It has given me a better understanding of who I want to be and WHY.
I wasn’t there the day my grandpa died. . . but I was there when he lived!
There are few in life who can stand proud knowing that in death we are judged by how we lived, and even fewer still who are wise enough to kneel. Be wise. Kneel before your God in life so that you may have the chance to kneel before him in death.
