My grandparents on my Dad's side of the family both passed away within 3 months of each other, the latter being Grandaddy who died on Christmas Eve, 1980.  I miss them both so much sometimes that it makes me cry.  Then there are the times that I ponder all the good times I had spending time with them during the summer months and a slow smile spreads across my face......aw, such fond memories I have and how blessed I am to have those memories. 

They were opposites that balanced one another out perfectly.  Grandmother was a small woman, always there for everybody, never met a stranger, energetic and bubbly.  She had a wonderful sense of humor that she passed down to my Dad, and I believe I managed to get my share of.  And she loved Grandaddy. 

Grandaddy, on the other hand was a friendly man, in a "very few words" kind of way.  He had a sense of humor, too but kept it well hidden.  He was a serious man that didn't say a lot, but you certainly listened when he spoke.  The usual "yeah" or "nope" that we commonly used to answer questions were not used when answering his questions.  It was "yes, sir" or "no, sir" or you were met with that "look"......the look that needed no words, that piercing look of brilliant blue eyes under dark eyebrows, which were raised in the silent message of, "what did you say"?  That "look" spoke volumes and was usually all that was needed to get the message.  If that look didn't get the attention sufficiently, he barked the few words that he felt to be enough, something like, "Break your leg to say sir?!"  ..........."No, Sir"  We mostly stayed out of his way and went about our play, but occasionally heard that gruff voice, say the same things at the appropriate moment, such as "Turn that light off before the mosquitoes start coming in!"

However, I seemed to be the only grandchild that could see that sense of humor that twinkled in his eye, even when the rest of his face was fixed in a definite frown.  I was the one that would call him Baggy Britches and Droopy Drawers and got away with it.  But even I knew there was a line you didn't cross, so I only went so far.  I didn't risk the "you've gone too far" glare which was definitely devoid of that "twinkle".  I never got a spanking from Grandaddy and don't remember my sister or any of my cousins getting one either.  But we all knew it was very possible, for Grandaddy was not the kind to be pushed very far, no sir.   

Grandaddy had worked very hard all his life and had been hurt pretty bad in a job related accident that I never did really know the details of.  But I knew he was in pain most of the time, not because he said so, but because my Dad told me.  He was still working back then to supplement the social security, and he worked as a butcher at a small grocery store a few blocks from home.  

Being an observant child, I just naturally noticed things.  And being a man of habit and of few words, Grandaddy was quite predictable. His routine was always the same, every day except Sunday.  I'll spare the details of his routine from sunup til sundown, but I could include them very easily.......because he was that predictable to me.  Which brings about my "uh oh" moment.......

Every day, Grandmother would cook lunch which would usually consist of a lot of warmed over leftovers and a couple of new items, but the table was always set with several bowls of various foods, plates, flatware and those big thick stem goblets full of cold, sweet iced tea.  Every day, we would hear Grandaddy pulling in the driveway, slamming the door of that old truck, coming in through the back door through the enclosed back porch, hanging up his hat and washing his hands.  Always the same timing, same routine.  By this time, Grandmother, sister and I were sitting down at the table waiting for Grandaddy to join us and "say the blessing", as we called it.  And every day, he would pull out his chair and during his slow descent to the chair, he would first let out a groan, then follow it with....."pshew....pshew....pshew".  This would all end at the same time his butt met the seat of the chair.  This was his "worked hard, very tired, so glad to sit down" ritual without words.  Then he would say the blessing and we would eat.  Every day....same routine. 

One particular day, I was observing this routine yet another time and for some reason, I just thought I would save him the trouble, I guess.  Who knows what I was thinking at the time.....I was probably 8 or 9 years old.  But anyway, the routine went as usual until he started to sit down.  This is where, before I even thought, I proceeded to do the "groan....pshew.....pshew.....pshew"  for him with the same precision and timing that he usually did....................

UH OH!!!!!

The room went totally silent as Grandaddy stopped abruptly in mid descent to his chair, looked at me sharply with that "look" and there was not a single twinkle to be seen.  Grandmother sat stock still while I suddenly swollowed my tongue, sank down in my chair and looked back at Grandaddy with eyes as big as saucers, I'm sure. 

Once again.......no words necessary.

After what seemed like an eon, which couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds, he looked back down at his plate and finished his descent to the chair.  I looked over at Grandmother and she was obviously stiffling a grin, Grandaddy wasn't saying a word, and sister started laughing.  Whew.....the moment passed and I was still alive, but only because looks can't kill.  We finished our meal just like any other day, except that I was on especially good behavior.  Now, this story is always told at family reunions and I'm kinda known as the grandkid that miraculously survived a major "UH OH" moment.

Oh, the memories......

God, I miss them and can't wait to see them again.