Grandpa

A year ago we had to say goodbye to one of the best people I will ever know - my grandpa Pankratz.
He was a major part of my childhood. My siblings and I spent pretty much every day after school at my grandparent's place for  seven years - but the relationship didn't stop there. We still went over there quite often, and he still put in many hours at our soccer games and choir concerts, still came to pick one of us up from school or work when we were in a bind, still was very present in our lives, and I am SO thankful for it.
He was the arch-typical grandpa that let the grandkids pretty much get away with anything. I remember him sneaking us girls sips of his very sugared and creamed coffee while mom wasn't watching, letting us ride in the box of his truck with the stipulation that we had to duck if we saw a cop, and treating us to many, many pushes on his swingset (complete with underducks!).
He had a stroke awhile before we were born, which compromised his speech, but what he lacked in always finding the right words, he made up for in every kind, gentle, loving gesture. When I finished my shift at 9:30 pm at Boston Pizza (and working at a restaurant, you often never know when you'll be sent home), and I discovered that one or more of my sisters had commandeered our shared vehicle for reasons that left it unavailable for pick-up purposes, it took no more than a simple phone call, and grandpa was on his way. When I discovered that college started two days earlier than the website had indicated, he and my grandma with no questions asked, dropped everything to drive me to Alberta. Not to mention the countless hours on the sidelines at rainy soccer games with his big umbrella in hand, the many fires built for us in their wood burning stove when we slept over in their basement, the hugs on Sunday mornings at church, and the knowledge that no matter what was going on in your life, there was no judgment or criticism on his part - he would just simply be there, praying, supporting and loving. Jesus was in his life, and he made that a part of everything he did.
I miss him.
I miss getting into his car and him going straight for the huge bag of mints in his glove compartment.  He was a mint pusher, and I still get cravings for scotch mints whenever I get near that vehicle.
I miss the tears in his eyes during praise and worship at church. They expressed a deep love for God, one that was completely genuine.
I even miss the simple things like him putting sugar on his tomatoes, or sitting in his recliner to watch sports or Jeopardy.
One of the things I miss the absolute most is how whenever I (or anyone else, for that matter) went over to their house for a visit, all the way up until the last time I saw him, he would be the first one to burst out the front door in greeting, a big smile on his face, and arms ready for a big hug.
I don't think the missing will go away anytime soon. But I'm comforted knowing that he is in a place where he is restored - no broken speech, no shuffling steps, just glorious happiness and wholeness.
And, oh, what a legacy he's left behind. I can only hope we make him proud through our lives and actions and attitudes. There's alot to live up to.