(From Sarah Mendonca McCoy)
Today, as I think about all of my memories of Grandpa, I feel very lucky to have been his first grandchild, and to have lived relatively nearby him for most of my life. I can remember spending time at his house in Mequon as a very young child, while I was still living in Wisconsin. I can remember the excitement with which I anticipated his visits to us when we were living in Florida. I can remember our family road trips to visit his house in Daytona Beach. And I have many wonderful memories of visiting him in my adulthood, while he was still living in Florida.
When I think of Grandpa, I think of boundless energy and optimism. Even when he was days away from the end of his life, he was still attempting the impossible, pushing himself beyond anyone's expectations, and wanting to be fully engaged in life. I think of a man who believed he could do anything, who always welcomed a challenge, and who never tired of meeting new people. I think of his tremendous generosity of spirit, his wonderful sense of humor, and his personal warmth and affection.
Grandpa was a man of great faith and devotion. He gave so much of his time and energy to the church, whether he was distributing Bibles with the Gideons, or hosting missionaries for dinner, or participating in Bible study each week. While he was still living in Florida, he also used to play organ at a local nursing home each week, bringing music and joy to the residents there. He offered us a wonderful example of Christian love, service, and humility.
Grandpa also loved to laugh. I have vivid memories of him laughing heartily, his eyes sparkling with joy. He loved to have fun. When I visited him a few weeks ago, I asked him what he was thinking about, and he told me that he was remembering the good times, like playing with his grandchildren in the pool. That happens to be one of our favorite memories, too: Grandpa running and jumping into the pool, making a huge cannonball splash, and throwing us up into the air. It's hard to say which of us enjoyed those times more, the grandfather or the grandchildren.
One constant memory I have is that Grandpa always seemed to have a lot of friends. It seemed that wherever I went with him, people just adored him. Even a few weeks ago, when I was helping my parents with various arrangements for him, I was struck by how greatly he had touched everyone he met. The receptionist for his car insurance agent was very emotional when I told her that he was sick, and she said to me over the phone, "I just LOVE your grandfather! Can I call him?" When we stopped at the bank on our way to his feeding tube procedure at the hospital, I was supposed to wait in the car with him, but he kept asking so many questions that I knew he wanted to go inside, and so we did. I watched in amazement as my 89-year-old grandfather with a cancerous tumor, who hadn't eaten solid food in almost 3 weeks, walked himself into that bank and proceeded to have a pleasant conversation with the bank staff, as if they were old friends. And when I went to check the mail at his apartment office, they all asked about him, wondering why they hadn't seen him lately.
I will miss many things about Grandpa. His laugh. His sweet scent. The way he always fell asleep in his recliner while watching golf. But most of all, I will miss the sense of unconditional love that I always felt with him. He always made me feel so important, so special, so loved. He never laid a guilt trip, he never seemed disappointed, he never asked me for anything. And he always showed such genuine appreciation for even the smallest acts of kindness that I showed him. I feel very blessed to have been his granddaughter, and I hope that with each day, I can become a little more like him.
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