I want to share a story with you of what my last four weeks have been like with a very important lesson mixed in…
The time had finally come. Leslie and I were on a plane to Dominican Republic. For several years Operation Christmas Child had promised that we would be a guest on one of their vision trips.
When we landed in Miami for our connection, I received a text from my brother. My Grandfather had fallen and broke his femur. He was at the hospital.
When I heard this my stomach fell because I knew it was not good. His health had been diminishing fast since my Grandmother passed away over the Summer. They had known each other since the 2nd Grade. Been married for 70 years. Theirs is an incredible love story and exhibition of loyalty.
My grandfather and I were close. For all intents and purposes, my grandfather stepped-up when my dad died when I was 10 years old. From that point on, the lines of our relationship were blurred between father-figure and grandfather.
Grandfather was the one that taught me how to fish and other stuff that young men need to know. He was the one that drove me to my wedding.
We got back from the Dominican Republic two days later, and I drove to Atlanta to see him. It was a Tuesday, and our first event of the year was in Dayton, OH., that Thursday, March 20-22nd. I fully expected to drive back home that night and leave for Ohio the next day for the event. But then I got to the hospital.
He was in Grady Hospital in downtown Atlanta. My mom and the rest of the family lived in the suburbs. What I learned is that grandfather was awake and talking but spending long hours by himself, especially in the mornings. And he was not eating or drinking.
Therefore, at the urging of Leslie, I cashed in the hotel points that I had accumulated over the last year of running Teach Them Diligently, and I stayed in a close-by hotel. I missed our first event of the year.
I was at the hospital for 8 hours a day for 8 days straight. The days ran together with the same sort of Groundhog-day routine.
“Grandfather, let’s take another drink of this Boost.”
He would kind of chuckle and say, “Boy, you really love this Boost.”
Over time, I got him up to three Boosts a day, but that was the only real protein he was getting. By the eighth day, he started to ask for food, which was encouraging.
In between the sips of Boost and water, he would talk. He would mentally meander between making sense and talking non-sense. But I got a lot of family history.
I was exhausted, but honestly, I would not have traded that time with him for anything. I am so glad Leslie urged me to stay and miss our Dayton event.
She said, “Don’t worry! We got it!” After that conversation, I reluctantly went and bought a set of clothes and a toothbrush and booked a hotel room. For several nights in a row, I didn’t eat dinner until 10pm.
Over the next 8 days, all my children and their spouses rotated through to make sure they saw him. I am very happy that they did this.
One of the things that kept rolling through my head while my Grandfather slept was this focus on legacy.
I once had this old Southern preacher tell me that you will know how good of a job you did as a parent when your grandchildren come around.
To me that statement really raises the standard. Parenting is not just corralling kids and keeping them out of trouble. There is a larger mission of instructing them what to do and how to do it. By raising your children, you are teaching them how to be parents.
There is a lot at stake!
When you think of parenting in this manner, it makes tough decisions not so tough. Not traveling on business trips. Saying no to a promotion. Staying loyal to your wife or husband. Making hard education choices. Walking away from opportunity. Discipling your children.
When you raise the stakes in your own mind, it makes these decisions easier.
Legacy is the reason I made a lot of the decisions I have made.
Again, I am so glad I spent this time with my grandfather. He was worth it.
After nearly two weeks in the hospital, my grandfather passed-on in his sleep. He was 95 years old and a believer. Born in 1930. He grew up two streets away from my grandmother in the old Grant Park neighborhood. Except for short stints in Philadelphia and Oslo, Norway, he lived his whole life in Atlanta. For 30 years, he was a professor of American Literature at Emory University, and he was the author of more than 12 books.
I had the incredible honor of giving his eulogy.
And any day now I am going to have two grandchildren come into this world. Talk about legacy…
I am so excited. If you come to Pigeon Forge, you may get a chance to meet both of our new grandchildren.
Right now, I am trying to figure out what I want to be called. Grandfather. Papa. Papi. My son-in-law and son are on a campaign to call me Pew Pew, as in Pepe Le Pew.
Actually, I like Pepe Le Pew so that may not be so bad! 😊. Let me know if you have any suggestions.
