I have such good memories of Grampy.

As a little kid, he would pull me around in a wagon—all over the house and outside too.

He and Grammy had a riding lawn mower and they attached a trailer to it and I would ride in the trailer behind the mower as we rode all over the farm in Michigan. I thought it was a blast.

Grampy showed me how to play croquet in the back yard in Michigan too. He would almost always win though.

I would come to visit a couple of times a year when I was growing up. I remember Grampy working hard at Troost Bros. Furniture as a carpet layer. Grammy and I would make his lunch for him and we would always put some little “surprise” in it—like a refrigerator magnet in his sandwich or something like that, so that he would find it when he took a bite!

Grampy built me a dollhouse when I was little. It was a beautiful 2-story house—very sturdy and he carpeted the rooms and the stairway and even hung wallpaper in it and made all the furniture. I spent hour after hour, year after year playing with that house. Since then, more generations of children have played with it as family nieces and grandkids filtered through and delighted in it.

When I would visit, we would play lots of games. Board games like Sorry, Parcheesi and Chinese Checkers and card games like Crazy 8's, Old Maid and Uno. Grampy was always hard to beat.

We would always go to church on Sundays and I remember Grampy reading scripture at the pulpit and singing hymns and teaching Sunday School. He would always have a pocket full of Bible tracks that he would leave at various places. He must have left hundreds of them over the years. His faith was always a very important part of his life and he wanted everyone to know that.

Grampy liked cats and, although I don't remember him having any animals, he would always let the neighbor's cats sit on his lap on the porch outside. More recently he would always ask me about my giant Golden Retriever, who he affectionately called, “Fido.”

He took great pride in his home and his work. Grampy was a perfectionist when it came to his woodworking and home improvements. He was precise and professional in every detail. The basement at the Michigan house was filled with his woodworking creations—wooden painted tulips that he had meticulously carved. Wooden wreaths, tic-tac-toe games, napkin holders, cats with marbles for eyes, all kinds of amazing stuff. He was an artist.

I will always remember his sense of humor. He was quick with a smile and a laugh. “You want a pop in the nose?” he would always teasingly say.

Grampy was a very special grandfather. I am honored to have been his granddaughter and to have had him a part of so many stages of my life.

Grampy, I will never forget you. I honor you today and every day as your wonderful memories will live on in all of our hearts and minds. I think of you now, safe and whole being held in the hollow of God's hand, as you often said in your prayers. I love you Grampy. And I always will.

Dad, I remember in college days when I used to write to you.  And sometimes you wrote back, telling me about the snow and the new roof and the cattails growing lushy wild in the ditch bank.  You were a good dad in those days, full of complaints at times, but giving and honest and even stern when I needed it.  You fought the traffic to Chicago to see me when I knew you hated the tollways.  You even drove 40 miles an hour to Kalamazoo in a blinding snowstorm to bring me my rent.

I had some great times with you in my early years.  You used to umpire in our church baseball games and you would always warm up my mitt for me at first base.  I liked Saturdays best of all.  That was Mom's day off from me. Your trademark was, "it's coffee break time," and off we would go to Baroda drug store--coffee with cream and sugar for you, a soda fountain milkshake and hamburger for me.  Sometimes you would fish out a nickel for me to play a favorite song on the juke box from the hit parade. 

I lived for our vacations together.  I never saw you much during the week because you had to work such long hours.  Even a half day on every other Saturday.  But on vacations I knew it was father-son times.  And all those great early morning trips fishing for bass and blue gills.  We never really did catch much, yet those times were the most precious of all.  My love for fishing and wild nature started right there with you in the boat along the Michigan lakes and shore lines.  Later on in life I remember fishing without you and I would say, "This one's for Dad," as I would cast my lure by some bubbles in the lily pads.

I didn't turn out to be the perfect son.  In some ways we both lacked perfection.  But we grew and we learned and we were real.  Through your sensitivity, your generosity, and your love, you have lifted me up on your shoulders to view the world from a new perspective, to find my way in this thing called life.  Dad, for letting me be me, I love you.  And for the part of you that you reached down to give to me, I thank you.  I will miss you, but the things you taught me will remain in my heart forever.  As you used to sing, "When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be."  I'll see you again, and once again, I'll tell you that I love you.  Your Son, Bob