It was 1997 and I had graduated college just a few months before. My sister, Laurie, and I were living in a tiny one-bedroom efficiency apartment in St. Paul. I was working part-time retail, looking my first full-time job, and my sister was in her last year of college at the U of M. The day that Grandpa was flown to the Twin Cities our mom called us late in the afternoon to tell us what was going on. She said the family was gathering at the hospital. We discussed about going since the hospital was only a few miles from where we lived, but Laurie said she did not want to see Grandpa unconscious, hooked up to machines, lying in a hospital bed. It was the complete opposite of everything about his personality - talkative, jovial, a booming bass voice. So instead we went out for dinner at the Green Mill where we solemnly ate. It would be years before I would eat again at the Green Mill because thinking about that night would make me feel so sad for so long.
The next morning I was up early for my shift at Pier 1 Imports. Laurie was up, getting ready for a class. It was pouring rain outside. It was before 8:00 and the phone rang in our apartment and I knew right away. Grandpa had died. Why else would anyone else call so early? Laurie answered the phone and all she said was, "He did?" and both of us started bawling immediately. She hung up and she didn't even have to tell me. It was too early for me to call into work, since I was meeting my manager at the store to open. So, I had to drive to the store, where I waited in the parking lot for her to come and unlock the door. I met her at the front door (still pouring rain) and she unlocked the door. I wasn't even all the way in the door yet when I burst out bawling, "My grandpa died this morning." She actually made me stay at the store until someone could come in to replace me on the day shift. I was only out on the sales floor for a few minutes before my replacement showed up. Which was a good thing because I couldn't hold it together for more than a few minutes at a time.
I drove back to Clear Lake that day by myself. I think Laurie had a class she had to go to, so we didn't drive back together. I remember stopping for gas and crying the whole time I stood at the pump. I got to Mom and Dad's house and no one was home. They weren't home from the hospital yet. I turned on the TV and wouldn't you know, it was the day of Princess Diana's funeral. Coverage of her death was all that was on TV. I couldn't escape death that day. That was also the same day Mother Theresa died.
A couple of days later we had his visitation and then the next day the funeral. It was estimated that between the two, around 900 people came to say goodbye to Grandpa. Both places were PACKED. Grandpa worked at a small-town post office for years so he knew a lot of people. He had also lived in the same area his entire life, raised 9 kids in the school system where he grew up, and supported High School athletics for years and years. He knew EVERYONE. And when Grandpa was around, you knew he was there - he made his presence known. He was no wallflower, that's for sure!
One of my favorite things about my childhood was that I attended the same church as Grandpa and Grandma Paulson. We usually sat in the pew behind my grandparents, right up in the front (about row 4) on the right side. Grandpa had a very deep voice and when he sang, it rang out nice and low. I loved hearing my grandpa sing. But he never sang up front or in the church choir. Except once. Toward the end of his life, our pastor, Ed Schupbach, talked him into singing a song at church in a quartet. During his funeral as the family came into the church, it was played over the sound system. He was the bass in the quartet. :)
Grandpa also had a head of thick, white hair. He was very easy to find in a crowd. His trademark wardrobe item was a cardigan sweater, never buttoned, just thrown over whatever shirt he was wearing. I never realized how often he wore one until we gathered photos for his funeral. He was wearing a cardigan in almost every one! He had a blue one he wore quite often.
Grandpa LOVED high school sports. He rarely missed a football game, a wrestling match, or a basketball game. He was one of my biggest supporters when I played basketball - he came to my games all the way from Jr. High through my Senior year. One of my favorite stories about Grandpa was when he got kicked out of one of my sister, Michelle's, seventh grade basketball game. Seventh grade! You don't even pay to get into those! One of the refs was a local man and Grandpa was disagreeing with many of his calls. Remember when I said Grandpa had a booming bass voice? That often played into him watching basketball games. He was one of the few people I could hear yelling during my games when I was on the court. He would often sit right behind the scorer's table so he could yell at the ref when they came over to call the foul. One of his favorite lines to yell was, "Shake your head, Stripes! Your eyeballs are stuck!" So anyway, during one of Michelle's games the ref warned him, "Mel, if you don't stop yelling at me, I'm going to ask you to leave." He didn't stop. He was asked to leave. Only Grandpa.
He was one of Clear Lake Wrestling's biggest supporters. He took me to many weekend tournaments before I had my driver's license. I remember once in Somerset it was just the two of us that went and I sat by him the entire day. I didn't get a whole lot of one-on-one time with my Grandpa since he had around 30 grand kids by the time he passed away and he had nine of his own children. (He always joked that one of his favorite Bible passages was in Psalm 127: Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them.) But that day I did get one-on-one time with Grandpa and I'll always remember it.
Besides his low, loud voice, and his white hair, and his cardigan sweaters, the most memorable thing about my grandpa was that he always, always, always had a roll of Lifesavers in his pocket. At any moment, on any day, I could ask, "Grandpa can I have a Lifesaver?" and he would always give me one. Peppermint. Always.
The other thing my grandpa loved to eat was cheese. He would sit at the kitchen table and slice cheese with a knife. Grandma and Grandpa always got the cheese that was wrapped in wax. Grandpa would peel away the wax, hold the knife in one hand, slice off a hunk, hold the cheese to the knife with his thumb and then hold out the cheese (still on the knife) to us. Us grand kids were like little vultures around him when the cheese came out.
Grandpa really enjoyed being a grandpa. He would tease a lot and laugh. He never held babies; he said he felt like he would drop them. But once those babies were older, he liked to try and make them laugh.
My very favorite thing about Grandpa Paulson was his faith. It was near torture when I was a little kid, but before EVERY meal at his house, we would all sit at the table and Grandpa would put on his reading glasses and read the devotional from "Our Daily Bread", as well as the scripture that went along with that day's reading. He always had his big Bible (I think it was black) and the little "Our Daily Bread" booklet at the table. When I was small, it was hard to sit still that long...we were constantly getting "sushed" if we tried to talk or whisper. And we had to sit still for 10 whole minutes while Grandpa read and then prayed. But it was a big part of how he ran his household and even though I can't remember one specific devotion or what he read from the Bible, I remember sitting and listening to him read God's word. What a legacy to pass down.
I really miss my Grandpa. It was so jarring to lose someone so full of life because his body failed him. A couple of weeks before he was called Home, we had a 25th anniversary party for my parents with our extended families. It was one of the last conversations I had with Grandpa. We were in my parents' kitchen and he told me two different things. Well, he probably told me a lot of things - he was never at a loss for words...that man could talk anyone's ear off - but I remember two things. One, he told me he was trying to eat smaller portions because his doctor told him he needed to lose weight and he had lost several pounds already. Two, he told me how proud he was of each of his kids and how much he loved each son-in-law and daughter-in-law and how his kids had married well. He really did love his family.
The last time I saw my Grandpa was on Labor Day weekend, just a few days before he died. We had a family get-together at our cabin at the lake. I snapped a photo that day of my grandpa standing behind my grandma, who was seated in a chair, and he's leaning over her shoulder, with a big smile on his face. That's how I remember him best. A loving, robust, fuller-than-life 72-year-old man who loved his family and loved Jesus more than anything else.
I know that Grandpa is loving Heaven, worshipping his Savior with gusto. I long to reunite with him and tell him everything that happened after he left us. I know he would've loved my husband - he would've gotten a big kick out of Chip. And I know he would've loved a lot of my cousin's spouses. He never saw one grandchild get married. He knew only one great-grandchild - Jordan. He now has, I don't know, around 25 or more. I was the only grandchild he saw graduate from college. Many more have achieved that since 1997. And he had one grandchild he never met - Lucas (who just started 2nd grade this week). If Lucas would've been a girl, he would've been named Melanie and been called Mel for short (to be named after Grandpa - because you can't name a girl Melvin). I consider myself very blessed to be 38 and still have three grandparents living. But I sure do miss the one that I lost.
I love and miss you, Grandpa. I can't believe you've been gone for 15 years. We all miss you.
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| With my grandparents at my college graduation ceremony - May 1997. Four months before Grandpa Paulson went to Heaven. I love that he wore a suit for my special day. :) |
