I lost my grandfather when I was six. The memory of my father telling me that Granddaddy had died is one of only a handful I remember from my childhood.
I know of my grandfather through the stories my dad has told me. He was beloved by his grandchildren, especially Wendy, Julie, and Joey, who were a little older than me and were able to visit Miami more often. My grandfather was one of a kind: very funny, kind, calm, and he adored my grandmother. He never laid a hand on her, never yelled at her, never dishonored her, and only spend one night without her. She had gone up to Merritt Island from Miami to visit my Aunt Vonette for a week. Early the morning after she left, there was a knock on the door at the house in Merritt Island; it was Carey! He told my grandmother that he just couldn't stand it in the house by himself. In today's world, he would be labeled as "whipped", but don't confuse his kindness for weakness. He was a strong man, and never put up with anyone or anything that he thought was unjust or unfair. He just "loved Momma!"
Another story my dad has told me was on the day of the funeral in Glennville, an old lady came up to my dad and asked him, "Are you Carey's son?" He said yes; she began to tell him that when my grandparents were young, they were sharecroppers, and so they were all broke. She said that Carey was walking down the road when he noticed her husband pulling rocks out of the ground in an attempt to till the fields. She said my grandfather, without hesitation, went back home and got his shovel and gave it to the man. Funny thing is, it was his only shovel! She said my grandfather never asked for a thing in return, never boasted about his good deed, and never asked for his shovel back.
The last time my dad saw his dad, they went fishing in the Everglades. It was their favorite thing to do.
My life has been full of mistakes, and I'm sure his was too, but they don't make people like that in this world anymore. I only knew my Granddaddy for a brief six years, and I wish I could have known him longer. My only hope is that I can get my life together and be forgiven for my mistakes, because Heaven is where he is, because he belongs nowhere else.
I know of my grandfather through the stories my dad has told me. He was beloved by his grandchildren, especially Wendy, Julie, and Joey, who were a little older than me and were able to visit Miami more often. My grandfather was one of a kind: very funny, kind, calm, and he adored my grandmother. He never laid a hand on her, never yelled at her, never dishonored her, and only spend one night without her. She had gone up to Merritt Island from Miami to visit my Aunt Vonette for a week. Early the morning after she left, there was a knock on the door at the house in Merritt Island; it was Carey! He told my grandmother that he just couldn't stand it in the house by himself. In today's world, he would be labeled as "whipped", but don't confuse his kindness for weakness. He was a strong man, and never put up with anyone or anything that he thought was unjust or unfair. He just "loved Momma!"
Another story my dad has told me was on the day of the funeral in Glennville, an old lady came up to my dad and asked him, "Are you Carey's son?" He said yes; she began to tell him that when my grandparents were young, they were sharecroppers, and so they were all broke. She said that Carey was walking down the road when he noticed her husband pulling rocks out of the ground in an attempt to till the fields. She said my grandfather, without hesitation, went back home and got his shovel and gave it to the man. Funny thing is, it was his only shovel! She said my grandfather never asked for a thing in return, never boasted about his good deed, and never asked for his shovel back.
The last time my dad saw his dad, they went fishing in the Everglades. It was their favorite thing to do.
My life has been full of mistakes, and I'm sure his was too, but they don't make people like that in this world anymore. I only knew my Granddaddy for a brief six years, and I wish I could have known him longer. My only hope is that I can get my life together and be forgiven for my mistakes, because Heaven is where he is, because he belongs nowhere else.
I lost my grandfather when I was six. The memory of my father telling me that Granddaddy had died is one of only a handful I remember from my childhood.
I know of my grandfather through the stories my dad has told me. He was beloved by his grandchildren, especially Wendy, Julie, and Joey, who were a little older than me and were able to visit Miami more often. My grandfather was one of a kind: very funny, kind, calm, and he adored my grandmother. He never laid a hand on her, never yelled at her, never dishonored her, and only spend one night without her. She had gone up to Merritt Island from Miami to visit my Aunt Vonette for a week. Early the morning after she left, there was a knock on the door at the house in Merritt Island; it was Carey! He told my grandmother that he just couldn't stand it in the house by himself. In today's world, he would be labeled as "whipped", but don't confuse his kindness for weakness. He was a strong man, and never put up with anyone or anything that he thought was unjust or unfair. He just "loved Momma!"
Another story my dad has told me was on the day of the funeral in Glennville, an old lady came up to my dad and asked him, "Are you Carey's son?" He said yes; she began to tell him that when my grandparents were young, they were sharecroppers, and so they were all broke. She said that Carey was walking down the road when he noticed her husband pulling rocks out of the ground in an attempt to till the fields. She said my grandfather, without hesitation, went back home and got his shovel and gave it to the man. Funny thing is, it was his only shovel! She said my grandfather never asked for a thing in return, never boasted about his good deed, and never asked for his shovel back.
The last time my dad saw his dad, they went fishing in the Everglades. It was their favorite thing to do.
My life has been full of mistakes, and I'm sure his was too, but they don't make people like that in this world anymore. I only knew my Granddaddy for a brief six years, and I wish I could have known him longer. My only hope is that I can get my life together and be forgiven for my mistakes, because Heaven is where he is, because he belongs nowhere else.
I know of my grandfather through the stories my dad has told me. He was beloved by his grandchildren, especially Wendy, Julie, and Joey, who were a little older than me and were able to visit Miami more often. My grandfather was one of a kind: very funny, kind, calm, and he adored my grandmother. He never laid a hand on her, never yelled at her, never dishonored her, and only spend one night without her. She had gone up to Merritt Island from Miami to visit my Aunt Vonette for a week. Early the morning after she left, there was a knock on the door at the house in Merritt Island; it was Carey! He told my grandmother that he just couldn't stand it in the house by himself. In today's world, he would be labeled as "whipped", but don't confuse his kindness for weakness. He was a strong man, and never put up with anyone or anything that he thought was unjust or unfair. He just "loved Momma!"
Another story my dad has told me was on the day of the funeral in Glennville, an old lady came up to my dad and asked him, "Are you Carey's son?" He said yes; she began to tell him that when my grandparents were young, they were sharecroppers, and so they were all broke. She said that Carey was walking down the road when he noticed her husband pulling rocks out of the ground in an attempt to till the fields. She said my grandfather, without hesitation, went back home and got his shovel and gave it to the man. Funny thing is, it was his only shovel! She said my grandfather never asked for a thing in return, never boasted about his good deed, and never asked for his shovel back.
The last time my dad saw his dad, they went fishing in the Everglades. It was their favorite thing to do.
My life has been full of mistakes, and I'm sure his was too, but they don't make people like that in this world anymore. I only knew my Granddaddy for a brief six years, and I wish I could have known him longer. My only hope is that I can get my life together and be forgiven for my mistakes, because Heaven is where he is, because he belongs nowhere else.
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