Redheaded Jill

This last month has been a whirlwind. My niece was born, my brother got married, and my Grandpa died.

Grandpa Smith, we called him Popo, though I don’t remember why… I think one of my cousins came up with that nickname.

My Grandpa was a gospel preacher for well over 50 years. He was 93 1/2 years old, eating breakfast when he passed. He and Grandma had been living with my Aunt and Uncle for (I think) over a year. They placed him in a facility for respite care for what was going to be 12 days.

Grandpa Smith was the friendliest man alive. That helps when you’re a preacher. My childhood memories of him are a cute little old man with a gray mustache, a beige cowboy hat, and suspenders. He was from Oklahoma, and said things like, “Wheeeee doggies” and “Howdy”. He played the fiddle and liked to hunt. He loved to invite people to church and he always took care of the neighbors. More than once I’d be visiting and we’d go move the trashcans for the neighbors. He would get up before 5:00 a.m. to go for walks. I think he was in his mid to late 80s before he started using a walker.

Grandpa Smith had cancer that ate away the vertebrae of his neck, so he had to wear a neck brace the last few years. He got a hernia because he was riding a bike and flipped over the handle bars. As a young man his hand got caught up in the reins of a horse and it pulled his thumb off at the knuckle.

Visiting Grandpa and Grandma Smith meant trips to Braums for ice cream. We’d go to Bible camp in the summers and sometimes go stay with them for a week after. My Grandma loves to shop. Sometimes Popo would take us and he’d make friends with everyone in the store.

One time we were visiting and Grandma took us to a store. She was on a mission. I was standing at the front talking to Popo when I heard, “Vance!” My Grandma wanted him to stop talking to me so we could go find the skirt she was excited about. I walked away and after we left the store we found him sitting on a bench in the air locker, chatting with a few other people who were waiting for their moms to finish up shopping.

Visits to Grandpa’s house meant a trip to the Will Rogers boyhood home and museum. Their little town of Oologah is a cute little place along the railroad tracks, North of Tulsa.

One time Dad and I went down there to get some cows. I rode along and spent the day with Grandma. Dad and Popo went to get the cows and he was SO excited. He’d call dad to check up on the cows later.

Grandpa Smith was patient. I rarely remember seeing him upset or riled. He would fall asleep in his chair and talk in his sleep. He drove a little red pickup truck and had an old fashioned carriage in his backyard. He was hard of hearing and would talk to us on the phone, but I don’t think he ever heard most of what we said. It would be so easy for that type of ailment to make a person bitter, but not him. He smiled and always told us he loved us at the end of our attempted conversation.

A few years back I went to visit him in the hospital. I asked him questions about living in Montana, and where he moved around to over the years. He told me about my dad as a little boy and different people from church. Later he was moved to a long term care facility where they had a chaplain on staff. My cute little Grandpa with his stack of Bibles and Bible commentaries debated and argued with that chaplain over doctrinal issues. Though he was a friendly, patient man he never backed down when it came to the truth and God’s word.

He raised my dad to be like that. He was a great man. It hasn’t really sunk in yet that he’s gone. Probably because I didn’t see him very often to begin with. But I prayed for him every day and will continue to do so out of habit, even though he’s gone on to Paradise.

I love you, Popo! See you again soon. ❤