remembering Poppy

I remember quite clearly when I met him.  

He was in his pickup, and after we were introduced, he said "I asked Spencer about you, and he said you were a real nice girl, real special.  But you're Norwegian?  From North Dakota?"

And I knew I would love him.  He'd often greet visitors to the ranch, give directions, and even let hunters know that he'd seen elk "just over that hillside" {even though his eyesight had been failing}

In the dark winter mornings, he was always the first one to the shed, bright lights streaming right into our bedroom window -- a wakeup call to Spencer.

He was a storyteller, and although his body was slowing down, his mind sure wasn't.  He knew every pasture on the ranch, and how his father had acquired it, and perhaps a story or two from the homesteaders who once lived there.  

He told of his mother choosing the carpet for her bedroom -- a lovely print with red roses -- and how his father was so upset with the decision that he set up a cot in the office and slept in protest.  It only lasted one night, and that rose carpet is still in our bedroom to this day.

Or the one about Bill's missing engagement ring.  Or Raine and her sister Louise playing piano together.

The Poppy I knew was so fiercely devoted to his ranch, but even more so, to the family that lived and worked it.  They made sure to listen to every Rocky football game while Spencer and Cavan were playing -- Saturday afternoons were sacred for that.  When the crew was off doing a big job, Poppy would wait at the highway, or call to make sure everyone got home okay and the job got done.  He'd drive and get out his binoculars to watch the progress of moving cows, and he'd stop down and see if I had heard any word from Spencer.

He wanted nothing more than his family to live this life, and to enjoy it.

He was genuine and had such a big heart.  Just a couple weeks ago, he helped Raine out to his pickup, and they came to visit and say hello to me and the girls.  On a hot summer day, he'd bring the girls and I ice cream bars, along with making sure the haying crew got a treat too.  We'd see him daily on our walks, and we'd chat and Poppy would always offer to give us a ride home.  This past Christmas, he gifted all of us with fencing gloves {even me!} and the great grandkids all received sweaters from him.  Every visit up to their house meant cookies and lemonade.

I tried to explain to Ella about Poppy's passing.  I talked about how we wouldn't be able to see him anymore, and how we will all miss him so much.  She said she'd miss his handshakes, and was just sure that God had given Poppy a pickup to drive in heaven, and "we'll be able to hear it."  {his pickup is pretty loud!}

I will miss him so very much.  But I am so blessed by his legacy left behind: a working family ranch, dedicated to each other and his strong work ethic and being a man of his word, which passed down through generations all the way to my husband.  We hope to pass that along to our kids as well.

Dearest Poppy,

I am so thankful for you.  I only wish we could've sang some duets together.  Miss you so, but peek through the clouds and watch over us, just like Ella said.

We love you.