Throughout that lovely service I heard a lot of people call him something I hadn't heard before: Grandpa Lee. It suits him of course, that is his name, but it struck me immediately. To me, he was Pop-pop. And while everyone I encounter knows me as Andrew, to Pop-pop, I was Andy. "His Andy" as I said on the phone as a kid (something my mom Janine reminds me of frequently). I wish I had more memories of me and Pop-pop from my childhood. Our family moved south when I was 5 years old and though we have the pictures to prove otherwise, I didn't feel like I saw too much of Pop-pop and Grandma after that. I have memories of small moments, still pictures in my head of his smile and big hands. I have some very vivid memories of being on boats, of him giving me my first woodworking kit and teaching me how to use it. Of the plane he made me and the Hess trucks he would buy for Christmas, he'd tell me about the parts of the trucks and the names and different types. To this day they're still just "trucks" when I see them, despite his best attempts at teaching me. I remember always feeling slightly intimidated by his size and his voice, that Pop-pop was the biggest, strongest man alive, and I was so happy he had my back and was on my side.
As time went on and I got older, the visits became less frequent. I was playing sports and music and taking time to travel to Jersey wasn't as easy as it once was. Pop-pop and Grandma were getting older too, so the drive to Georgia wasn't doable after a while, and we all know Pop-pop doesn't get on no planes! But with the infrequency of time together came a much stronger appreciation for whatever time we did spend with one another. With each trip I paid more and more attention to the stories, to the cadence of his speech and the timbre of his voice. I watched myself get bigger and Pop-pop suddenly looking smaller, but no less strong. I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of his laugh. Every minute was a joy. Infrequent, but memorable, powerful, and important.
The last time I got to see Pop-pop was a few years ago now. We attended a wedding in Jersey for a family member on my dad's side of the family, and luckily we got to go see Pop-pop and Grandma before hopping on a flight back home. We got to their house early (well, to me. They had been up since about 5 apparently) and we talked and laughed, ate lunch, and reminisced. I watched Pop-pop down seemingly endless amounts of sugar in the forms of cookies, candies, and Turkey Hill ice cream. There wasn't a vegetable to be found on that man's plate. Talk about living life to the fullest!
We went outside to take pictures. unbeknownst to any of us, the last picture I'd stand in with him. His arm around my waist and mine around his shoulder, I realized I had a foot of height on this larger-than-life man. But he squeezed me in so close I thought my rib would break. No less strong and no less loving than he had always been. He laughed and said we looked like twins.
Before we got in the car to leave we said one last goodbye with a promise to come up and visit soon. He gave me a big hug and actually started to cry a bit. I had no idea why, and I still don't. But he smiled. And he laughed. And the last thing he said to me was "alright Andy, be good. I love yuz". I can't think of a better final word to hear.
So Pop-pop, be good. And keep laughing. I love yuz
-Andrew Hoffman