joflasher | When it rains ...

Tuesday night I got a call from home telling me that my step-dad's father had died. It wasn't expected. Pappy Ted had been sick for a long time but he wasn't "sickly", if you know what I mean. He's had heart problems for the last ten years and has been sinking into dementia since his wife, Lorma, died but looking at him, you'd never know. He was the epitome of "active elder". He looked like the old farmer he was, robust and happy. He was always ready to go chase the cows or go fishing.

I've known the man my entire life and he's always been Pappy Ted, even before his son became my step-father. My dad's best friend was Pappy Ted's youngest son. We were always up at the farm helping out, more so after Mom married Denny. I don't know how many times we got calls at 3 in the morning saying one of the cows was missing and she was due to give birth and it 10 degrees out and could we come help search the pastures for her. Pappy Ted was always there, even if we had plenty of us "young folk" and he always made sure that we had hot chocolate to "chase the chill out of your bones" before we went home. He was one of those people that treated all of us kids like his grandkids, whether we were blood relatives or not. My Grandma Matthews is the same way. She's Grandma to EVERYONE.

In the last year or so, he's mind has been wandering more and more. A few months ago, he started asking people where Lorma was and then scolding them for letting her go out alone when they told him she had died. Lorma wasn't strong, he'd say, and shouldn't go on trips by herself. Well, Pappy Ted, wherever you are now, I hope Lorma is there with you and you can take this trip together.