I have been having a hard time expressing what I really feel during this time. Of course no one's really asking or expecting me to, but I want to anyway. I want to tell the world about how great my grandfather was. How willing and able he was to do almost any task he set his mind towards. There was nothing that he could not do. No problem he could not solve and although he was not a man of many words, he always knew just what to say and all I ever wanted was his approval. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him and all that he did. I wanted him to know that I would be there to have his back to lift him up if he ever needed me to. I wanted him to know that I was proud to call him 'Grandaddy'. I admired his work ethic, his courage and bravery and most of all his calm and collected disposition.
Once I asked him how he maintained such an active state of being as a man in his seventies. He had back problems every-now and then but, he did not let that stop him from: waking up at five am before the rooster got the chance to wake him up, eating breakfast, having some alone time with God in his favorite place to sit; the ever elusive front porch, who's windy atmosphere was juxtaposed with the humidity of the inner sanctums of the house that I dubbed 'The Safe Place'. As a response to my question in all of his candor he responded, "Well.. There aint much too it . Just getting up early instead of laying about all day".This, if you did not realise it as yet was a subtle jab at his loving grand kids who tend to have different sleep patterns than he did. He continued, "Mostly I just stay active... going out looking after the field... you know, keeping busy". I believe that my Grandfather would not change a thing about this seemingly simple existence. He loved keeping himself busy until midday, when he was sure to return barefooted standing in the front of the back door. Meeting my grand mother at the stove preparing dinner. He'd ask what was on the menu and he'd go and freshen up before sitting at the table with me, my sister and any other relative there that day. He'd always have his head in a newspaper at dinner time even when technology was at it's peak. Often he'd break his silence when me or my sister asked a question or when he wanted to know how our days went. Soon enough, our Grammy would come over with dishes piled with local delicacies, like Conch, grits or just your average everyday chicken. The sun saturated the eating area which is not to be confused with my grandmother's lavish and meticulously planned out dining room. In fact there was so much sun that you could see the steam rising from the bowls or plates. Then we'd dig in.
Grandaddy and Grammy had an interesting relationship. I recall him giving a bit of critique to Grammy's food, "I... think you put... a lil too much salt Sally" and my grandma would rightfully defend her meal that she rarely tasted beforehand as she had already mastered everything. Personally, I thought the food was perfect every time but who was I to get involved in that conversation (I name 'child' as the old folk say. I remember him saying to Grammy 'That's alright, that's alright" and "All I was saying was..." when ever he noticed her getting worked up even in the slightest. I suppose that was his way of backing down, taking back his words or admitting it wasn't a big deal. After all Grammy was the light of his life, the apple of his eye and his soul mate. They did everything together and had a bond that reminded me of my own parents so I definitely felt a sense of familiarity whenever I was by their house.
After dinner he'd disappear again although we all knew where he was, either in the backyard or on the porch, but very often going through his phone. Not sure what he was doing, perhaps scrolling through the bible app or using Facebook to keep up with politics or close/ distant relatives. Every evening it was the same unless something was on. He'd sneak off to bed and wasn't really the type to say "Goodnight" to everyone at around seven-ish or eight-ish which might have still been too late for him. Then the cycle would repeat itself.
While everyday for him was different there were certain aspects of his character that remained the same. The way he'd always give a nervous laugh at my jokes no matter if he really found them funny or not, the way he'd ask "what you looking at" (jokingly) if he caught me staring at him and how him and my grandma were insistent on getting to give my sister and I a hug every time they saw us before our time was winding down and we'd have to return to the UK . We ended up saying our good byes twice and every time he was not afraid to tell us he loved us. That in itself was enough to know, that even with my family that consists of 30 plus people we were seen, we were heard and we were loved. I always knew that one day we'd have to let him go but never would I have imagined that it would end like this. A giant of a man stolen from the ones he truly loved.We loved him but God loved him best.
- Alique Harvey
Grandson