My grandfather passed away this weekend. He was 96.
It happened fast. Covid that turned to pneumonia. Before that he was active and social. He golfed twice a week, ran errands, and took care of my Nana.
He was never the grandparent I thought would go first. But he was always the grandparent I was most scared of losing. It’s not that I loved my nana and grandma any less, it’s just that Poppop was my guy. He was really good at being a grandfather.
He had a hearty laugh and a twinkle in his eye when you told him a story or a joke as if he was tickled by how funny his grandkids were.
My nana and poppop were a huge part of my life throughout my childhood. I lived with them a few times, most notably after my parents’ divorce when my father moved back in with them, and I moved in with my father.
Poppop was there through those tough years. But he’s also such a towering presence in all of my childhood memories.
The time our entire family rented a van and drove up the Northeast Coast in the summer of 1994. We stopped in Boston, and I wanted to go into this haunted house, and Poppop volunteered to take me. I was terrified. Wouldn’t even open my eyes. Held his hand and clung to his side as he navigated us through the maze of the attraction. At one point, we stopped because it was pitched black and Poppop was lost. He said, “Where the hell are we?” And a voice with a “Transylvanian accent” came through the speaker and said, “You’re in Dracula’s Castle.”
He taught me to cha cha and lindy hop, and then at his nephew’s wedding, took me out on the dancefloor to work out my new moves.
And when I moved into my grandparents house when I was twelve, I speckled the ceiling with glow in the dark stars. I came home from school one day to find poppop standing in my bedroom doorway. The light in my room was on. I asked, “Poppop, what are you doing?” He turned to me and said with a smile on his face, pointing at the ceiling, “I’m charging up the stars, Robadee.” This 6 foot tall, World War II navy veteran was just “charging up” my glow in the dark stars because he thought they were delightful.
He didn’t really have a childhood. He grew up between an orphanage that he called, The Home, and various foster homes who took him in because they needed extra hands to help out on their farms. Only one family treated him like a son, and that family fostered him so that their son would have a friend. This was all during the 1930s and 40’s. He was born in 1929. Poppop would sometimes talk about how the horse drawn carriage would pull up to the home on Thanksgiving with a turkey.
I think it’s that starting point, growing up the way he did that made him delighted by the family he created. He wasn’t perfect. He had his demons. But the man I knew was kind and funny and full of life. The memories I share here are just a few showcasing his love and care and humor.
As I write this on my 40th birthday, I want to honor the man who shaped so much of my life. I am happy to have known him and to call him my poppop. I am glad to have been able to ask him questions about his life and even more grateful that he shared his stories with me. I carry them in my heart as I will carry him always.
Until we meet again. I am glad to know that there is good company waiting for me in heaven when the day arrives.
Robyn Neilsen 