A difficult post to write

I kept putting off writing this post and I wanted to do it, not Jason. So here goes nothing. The Sunday after Christmas my grandfather, "Poppo" as we call him, went home to heaven. He had a stroke, held on so we could all say our goodbyes, and then he moved on to bigger and better things.

I have been so lucky to know my grandparents well and have them be here for so much of my life. My Popppo was larger than life. When he walked in a room you always knew it. He had a marvelous sense of humor and could always make people laugh. He made friends everywhere he went. Poppo could spend hours talking to anyone. He was always generous and much much more. I think the thing I remember about Poppo was how he had such a big heart. I watched him as a young girl serving on the board and eventually being president of the nursing home in which my great-grandma lived. The hours he must have put in to help people who could not always care for themselves always left an impression on me.

My favorite Poppo story relates to this. My apologies for my paraphrasing. Once my great -grandma was not pleased with something or another at the nursing home. She was done with it all and wanted to end it by jumping out of her second-floor window. If I remember properly, Poppo wheeled Grandma up four floors and said if your going to jump at least do it from where it will make a difference. There was a nurse listening in the hallway and she was appalled and thought Poppo was the worst son in the world until she heard Grandma Dick start laughing. That was Poppo.

I have a Christmas cactus that is a shoot from my Grandma Dick's plant. I have had it for years. Each year it gets one or two blooms, tops three. I have never gotten it to bloom fully. This year it has over 25 blooms all starting now. Perhaps it's a coincidence, but I like to think of it as a bit of a memorial to a son coming home. Good-bye Poppo, you will be missed terribly. Until we meet again . . . .