If you still have your loved ones today, might I ask you to hold them a little tighter? Might I ask you to make room for that visit? Might I ask you to save space on your calendar for them?
Growing up, my grandparents weren't just relatives I visited for annual holiday get-togethers or family affairs—they cared for me every day after school until my parents could get home from work. My earliest memories weren't spent in a preschool but at my Memo and Papa's home. From gardening and cooking to cleaning, organizing, reading, singing in the car, or going to the library, they always made sure I was well-rounded. Even in high school, I frequented their home nearly every day. They weren't just my Grandma and Grandpa, but my second mom and dad.
As children, we don't realize how quickly time passes—especially the time for those older than us. But before we know it, we're at the age they became parents and grandparents. Time's hands never slow down; we just seem to breeze more rapidly through.
One memory becomes a thousand, and a thousand become a million. And though we can't recount them all, we know they hold a special place in our hearts. People grow older, and time seems to stand still. We know the end will someday come, and we try to prepare for it. Yet, as Emily Dickinson writes in her poem "Because I Could not Stop for Death" (479), death stops for no one. It's inevitable and unpredictable. When it comes, it's always too early.
That was the case for my Papa on Thursday, February 20th, 2025.
Unlike Dickinson's poem, I know that eternity welcomed my Papa with open arms. That reassurance doesn't make losing him any easier, but it gives me a peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:6-7). For though I grieve now (and will continue to for quite a while), I can rest assured that I know where he is and will see him again.
As I reflect on the time we spent together, tears flow like rivers down a gentle stream. Some release sorrow, while others reminisce about the joy of all our years. Pondering the gift of life my Papa was to me, I'll forever cherish three things: his work ethic, his chivalry, and his faith.
1. Work Ethic
To this day, I've never met a harder worker than Grandpa. Maybe it runs in the family, but if something needed to be done, my Papa would do it without asking!
Papa grew up on a farm. He knew all about raising chickens, planting gardens, and working from sunrise to sunset. So much so that he refused to eat chicken in his adult life (totally not joking!). Like most farmers, he loved his John Deere tractor, being outside, mowing, tending to the crops, and soaking in the sun. He also loved his cars.
As Papa grew older, I saw how strong his work ethic was. Snow, sleet, and hail, or one-hundred-degree days, Papa would be outside working, volunteering at the church with my Memo, or doing chores around the house. But after his work, he would rest. Particularly, when I would visit and Memo and I would talk so much, we would talk him to sleep.
His work ethic reminds me of Jesus' words in Ecclesiastes 5:18-20: "I have seen personally what is the only beneficial and appropriate course of action for people: to eat and drink, and find enjoyment in all their hard work on earth during the few days of their life that God has given them, for this is their reward. To every man whom God has given wealth and possessions, he has also given him the ability to eat from them, to receive his reward, and to find enjoyment in his toil; these things are the gift of God. For he does not think much about the fleeting days of his life because God keeps him preoccupied with the joy he derives from his activity" (NET).
Papa knew how to work hard (and a lot), but he also knew how to rest. And those are two things I will carry with me for the rest of my life: Learning to balance having a strong work ethic with our immense need for deep, soulful rest.
2. Chivalry
My Memo and Papa were high school sweethearts. My grandma has told me dozens of times how she and Papa would go skating, on long drives, and to the movies for dates. They married young and had three children. But even before they were lovers or parents, one thing always stood out to my Memo about Papa, and that was how respectfully he treated women.
If there was a door that needed opening, my Papa got it for you. If chores needed to be done, he pitched in an extra hand. You never had to worry about your car being perfectly polished or the oil being changed because he was already on it. My Papa was the definition of what it means to be a courteous, attentive, gallant, considerate, and respectful man.
Because I saw the interaction between my Memo and Papa, I knew what I wanted in a man. When I met my now husband, Ben, I knew he and Papa would get along well. They both exemplify Jesus' words in Matthew 20:28: "Just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (NIV).
Chivalry isn't just a characteristic of Christ but a way of living that transforms how we behave and who we become. Laying our lives down for others in service and chivalry for one another enables us to live well.
3. Faith
Up until he was diagnosed with some severe stomach issues, Papa was in church every Sunday. He prayed before he ate his cornflakes with bananas, and I'd watch him take off his hat before family meals. He respected God with everything he did, and his life reflected that.
One afternoon, I'd gone over to visit my grandparents after work. I always considered their home a safe and peaceful space, so it was somewhere I went often before getting married. On this particular Tuesday, I had counseling at 4. It was 3, so I had about an hour before the session.
Normally, Memo and I would catch up. We always were the talkers. But this day, Memo wasn't home, and it was just Papa and me. Though a bit reserved, Papa and I talked about the weather, whether or not I'd washed my car yet (he was always asking!), and my job. He told me about his upbringing and how he loved being outside. His character exuded two things: peace and a life well-lived.
Often, I'd catch my Papa looking at the sky, taking a deep breath, or smiling at the sun. He was aware of his surroundings, and when he was with my Memo, their loving bond was evident. Sure, they had their arguments (and Papa would always tell me he'd go along with what Memo said), but faith always covered them in the end. Their cord of three strands was not easily broken—you could see that from both of them.
My Papa loved sweets (and lots of visits to McDonald's, Golden Corral, or Dairy Queen), but his faith was sweeter. And it's a faith I pray to represent the rest of my life.
Teach Us to Number Our Days
If you still have your loved ones today, might I ask you to hold them a little tighter? Might I ask you to make room for that visit? Might I ask you to save space on your calendar for them?
God has already numbered our days. I am not God to know or ask the number of those days we have left. But I will live in the ones I do, striving to live just like my Papa. Striving to make him and the Lord proud.
"Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." Psalm 90:12 (NIV)
Agape, Amber
Photo Credit: ©Getty Images/Jacob Lund
