September 24th, 2007


R. I. P., Pappy

His name was Isaiah, and he was 95 years old. He was my mother's father, and also had an older son. Both were able to be with him before he passed away this morning, peacefully and as comfortably as the hospital could make him.

He was not a tall man, nor particularly well-educated -- though he was so smart I imagine if he could have afforded to do High School and college he would have been a real force. He could work a Rubik's Cube well into his 90's, and cheated Anal-man brilliantly at cards. He worked on a harbour lightboat as a 'teen, then became a Ford mechanic which was his life's work. When he told his co-workers he was going to be a father, they nicknamed him "Pappy" after Pop-eye's father Poopdeck Pappy. The nickname stuck his whole life.

Though he never went into the service (his eyesight wasn't good enough, I'm guessing) he embodied the true meaning of Honour and Integrity, Loyalty and Duty. He stood by, loved, and supported a woman who suffered from many mental afflictions when most men would have had her hospitalized or abandoned her. Mental hospitals then were nightmarish, and less about curing and more about containing.

He outlived her by two years, and now he'll lie beside her again. His funeral will be Friday, but I won't be able to make it. It doesn't matter. I miss him either way. Goodnight, Pappy. I love you.
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