A tribute to my grandfather

My grandpa was a strong, stubborn man, which made for an interesting relationship he had with me and my older cousin, Tyler. Before I was born, my dad tried to give him a hug, but Grandpa (or Papa, as I often called him) stuck out his hand to shake instead. I guess in the army if you hugged, you were considered gay or something. He was never really the emotional type up until a few years ago. The summer before he was diagnosed with cancer, I spent a week at my grandparents' house after returning from camp. I guess I forgot to mention that Papa wasn't of the silly kind, either, which caused for a lot of friction with Tyler, who was the family clown. Farts, burps, and any other bodily function were forbidden at my grandparents' house.

   Papa loved cheese Pringles, Cheetos, and chocolate milk, so we often had that for a snack between lunch and dinner. I remember one time when I stuck two Pringles in my mouth to make a duck bill. Papa laughed at it, and I didn't give it much thought afterward. 

My mom came later in the week. We were to stay a few days longer and then Mom would take me back to our home town. We were once again eating the daily snack, then I heard my grandpa say "Like this, Rachel?" I looked to see my grandpa with the same Pringle duck bill that I had shown him days before. We started laughing; I then made the bill and stuck a Cheeto in each ear. He followed by sticking two up his nose! 

Never in my life have I seen my grandfather laugh so hard. We laughed so hard we were crying! 

And it was soon after that, Papa was found to have a brain tumor, and it was cancerous. And thus began our two-year struggle that brought our family together. But that's another story for another time. 

One thing I forgot to mention, Papa was a hard-core cowboy, where I guess his stubbornness came in handy. Whenever I came to visit he took me out in the arena to ride the horses all day. I much rather would have done something else but it made him happy to see me in the saddle, so I did as he said. Toby, the horse that I always rode, was a a gentle quarter horse, and the only one that Papa trusted with us kids. But one day when I was riding he spooked, and took off on me. I was scared; I tried to control the reigns but he wouldn't respond. Grandpa yelled some instructions to me but I didn't hear him. I fell off of Toby (which for a 9-year-old is a long height), and landed against the fence of the arena. I had hurt my leg but it was nothing bad, probably something that I could walk off. Nevertheless I was a weak kid with not much pain tolerance, so I started crying. Papa checked to make sure nothing was broken (in his angry, forceful voice), and then made me get back in the saddle. For the longest time I was mad at my grandfather's decision that day, but it was a few days before he passed away that I realized it was the right thing to do. Although Papa wasn't the epitome of love and mercy, he taught me not to let life knock me down. One of his favorite sayings was "When the going gets tough, get tough with it." When we get knocked down we can't just sit and cry about it and never try again, but we need to get back in that saddle! 

           So thank you Papa, for teaching me one of the most important lessons of my life.