Like a lot of people with hearing aids, Howard is a loud taker. The last time he called Daphne, I could hear him from across the room, "Daphne! This is Grandpa Howard, and I am in trouble!"
"You are? What kind of trouble, Grandpa?"
"Well, I have these two birthday cards that I want to mail, but I can't read the darn address to your house anymore! What is it?"
She's too young to know it, but Charlotte is a lucky kid. How many grandchildren can say they know their Great-Grandfather and that he's a good tickler? Charlotte knows his house inside and out, and when we visit him, she can see pictures of herself all over his place. I'm not bragging, and Charlotte isn't his favorite grandchild. Howard simply puts up the pictures that people send him, and Daphne keeps him pretty close in our loop. Over the years I have gotten to know him better than my own grandparents.
On September 6, four days after his 87th birthday, Howard passed away. He had been hospitalized over the Memorial Day weekend for a stroke, and the stroke took its toll a few nights later. After our initial shock, Daphne and I began to wonder how Charlotte would take the news.
We shouldn't have worried. When Daphne explained that Grandpa Howard had died, Charlotte immediately replied, "I bet Grandma Deb was so happy to see her dad that she started crying!"
We are sure she is right. Just typing Charlotte's response makes me cry.
Howard's funeral was Monday, and Daphne gave the eulogy. She did an excellent job, but it wasn't easy. Then again, when has anything funeral-related been easy?
Charlotte appeared eight times in the memory displays at the funeral home.
On the far right you can see a framed photo of Jill, Howard's dog. Jill was a farm dog that only slept in the house during extreme weather. I love the fact that Grandpa cleaned all the farm off of her, hired a professional photographer to take her picture, and then had the photo framed.
When Howard would talk to me about her, he'd touch his finger on the head in the photograph and end his story with, "She was such a good dog..." and his eyes would slightly well.
Look at Jill's smile. You just know that Howard is standing behind the photographer.
Howard was a carpenter by trade and hobby, and he made this violin. He couldn't play it. He just wanted to see if he could make one.
Truthfully, he could make anything out of wood that you asked him to make. There is so much furniture in our house, including our sleigh bed, that is stamped "Hand Crafted by Howard Cudworth".
Howard even made his own casket. It has been waiting for him under wraps in the garage for about a decade. Why make your own casket? "Well, my ancestors had to make their own casket if they wanted to be buried in one. So, I figured I could make mine, too," he explained.
Howard had several conversations at the funeral home to make sure he made his casket to the right dimensions. About a year ago he gave the funeral home a key to his house, access to the garage opener, and permission to handle his casket. He didn't want his family getting hurt bringing the heavy casket down from the rafters. He was a man who paid attention to the details - just like the one he carved into the casket's side.
Howard served in the Air Force during the Korean Conflict, so there was a military service at the burial. The gunshots may have scared Charlotte, but I was very impressed with their presentation.
We had a lunch downtown at Appanoose Rapids after the burial. Then it was time to head over to Howard's house to see if there were any items that the family wanted before the Salvation Army truck arrived.
Like speaking at the funeral, entering a house that was a loved one's home isn't easy. I know Howard couldn't take this stuff with him, and I know he'd be glad to share what he didn't need anymore. I still felt like a petty thief when I opened a drawer to see what was inside. I wasn't alone. Most of the family spoke in hushed tones as they quietly and politely made the rounds through the small rooms.
As I said, Char knows Grandpa's house very well, and she only wanted one thing. I'd make you guess, but I doubt you'd get it right. I wouldn't guess it, and she's my kid.
Charlotte wanted his small cactus. Why? She liked seeing how much it had grown between our visits, and she wanted to keep growing it for Grandpa. No one told her no.
Char's other prizes from Grandpa include the binoculars he showed her how to use, the flashlight she shined jokingly in his face, and a toy set of china that she used to serve him tea. Daphne played with those same cups and dishes when she was a child. Char was also given the mini china cabinet that her great uncle Dave made back in high school. (The cabinet isn't crooked; the picture is.)
Daphne now has some of Grandmother Patty's cookbooks, baking pans, and two of the last quilts Patty made. I have the pocketknife that Howard kept in his garage, a few of his tools, and one other thing...
Yes, I kept that picture of Jill. I know that seems weird, but no one else wanted the picture, and I couldn't stand the thought of it being thrown into the trash.
I'm not a philosopher or a theologian. But I know a life isn't defined by the weight of what you have accumulated or how much money you were worth. So how is a life measured? I'm not sure. To paraphrase Mahatma Gandhi, you can judge a person by how they treat their animals.
If that is true, then the picture of Jill is all that Charlotte really needs to know about her Great-Grandpa Howard.
Luckily, we have pictures like these, too.
We're going to miss you, Howard. You were a great Grandpa to all of us.
We shouldn't have worried. When Daphne explained that Grandpa Howard had died, Charlotte immediately replied, "I bet Grandma Deb was so happy to see her dad that she started crying!"
We are sure she is right. Just typing Charlotte's response makes me cry.
Howard's funeral was Monday, and Daphne gave the eulogy. She did an excellent job, but it wasn't easy. Then again, when has anything funeral-related been easy?
Charlotte appeared eight times in the memory displays at the funeral home.
On the far right you can see a framed photo of Jill, Howard's dog. Jill was a farm dog that only slept in the house during extreme weather. I love the fact that Grandpa cleaned all the farm off of her, hired a professional photographer to take her picture, and then had the photo framed.
When Howard would talk to me about her, he'd touch his finger on the head in the photograph and end his story with, "She was such a good dog..." and his eyes would slightly well.
Look at Jill's smile. You just know that Howard is standing behind the photographer.
Howard was a carpenter by trade and hobby, and he made this violin. He couldn't play it. He just wanted to see if he could make one.
Howard even made his own casket. It has been waiting for him under wraps in the garage for about a decade. Why make your own casket? "Well, my ancestors had to make their own casket if they wanted to be buried in one. So, I figured I could make mine, too," he explained.
Howard had several conversations at the funeral home to make sure he made his casket to the right dimensions. About a year ago he gave the funeral home a key to his house, access to the garage opener, and permission to handle his casket. He didn't want his family getting hurt bringing the heavy casket down from the rafters. He was a man who paid attention to the details - just like the one he carved into the casket's side.
Howard served in the Air Force during the Korean Conflict, so there was a military service at the burial. The gunshots may have scared Charlotte, but I was very impressed with their presentation.
We had a lunch downtown at Appanoose Rapids after the burial. Then it was time to head over to Howard's house to see if there were any items that the family wanted before the Salvation Army truck arrived.
Like speaking at the funeral, entering a house that was a loved one's home isn't easy. I know Howard couldn't take this stuff with him, and I know he'd be glad to share what he didn't need anymore. I still felt like a petty thief when I opened a drawer to see what was inside. I wasn't alone. Most of the family spoke in hushed tones as they quietly and politely made the rounds through the small rooms.
As I said, Char knows Grandpa's house very well, and she only wanted one thing. I'd make you guess, but I doubt you'd get it right. I wouldn't guess it, and she's my kid.
Charlotte wanted his small cactus. Why? She liked seeing how much it had grown between our visits, and she wanted to keep growing it for Grandpa. No one told her no.
Char's other prizes from Grandpa include the binoculars he showed her how to use, the flashlight she shined jokingly in his face, and a toy set of china that she used to serve him tea. Daphne played with those same cups and dishes when she was a child. Char was also given the mini china cabinet that her great uncle Dave made back in high school. (The cabinet isn't crooked; the picture is.)
Daphne now has some of Grandmother Patty's cookbooks, baking pans, and two of the last quilts Patty made. I have the pocketknife that Howard kept in his garage, a few of his tools, and one other thing...
Yes, I kept that picture of Jill. I know that seems weird, but no one else wanted the picture, and I couldn't stand the thought of it being thrown into the trash.
I'm not a philosopher or a theologian. But I know a life isn't defined by the weight of what you have accumulated or how much money you were worth. So how is a life measured? I'm not sure. To paraphrase Mahatma Gandhi, you can judge a person by how they treat their animals.
If that is true, then the picture of Jill is all that Charlotte really needs to know about her Great-Grandpa Howard.
Luckily, we have pictures like these, too.
We're going to miss you, Howard. You were a great Grandpa to all of us.
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