I lost my Poppaw last week.
I know this is a little out of character for what this blog has been so far, but I need to put into words how much he means to me.
me with mommaw and poppaw, christmas 2010
At the visitation and funeral, and through emails and Facebook posts over the last week, I’ve heard so many comments and stories about how special Charles Olen Kirkpatrick was. Of course, I already knew this, but my love and respect for him grew even more as I listened to person after person talk about his kindness, determination, thoughtfulness, ingenuity, and generosity. I miss him already, and I know I’ll miss him always.
He was born on December 6th, 1934, in Arkansas, just a few miles from Glen Rose, where he lived most of his life and where many of my most cherished memories have taken place. He married my Mommaw over 56 years ago, served in the Air Force for four years and retired from the Rock Island Railroad in the late seventies. For a time, he and Mommaw owned and operated their own Barbecue restaurant. Their smoked ribs, fried fish, hushpuppies, cole slaw, and baked beans are still the best I’ve ever had. For the last 20+ years, he was caretaker of Fairplay Cemetary, and from what I understand, he was a good one.
He was a first-rate story teller. I can’t count the number of stories I’ve heard him tell from his days in the Air Force and on the railroad, but I will never forget the look on his face when he told them with his children and grandchildren listening intently.
our wedding day
He planted and tended a large garden for most of my life (and for many, many years before I was born), and I have wonderful memories of sitting on the back porch snapping green beans and shelling peas. I specifically remember one day when I was very young, he took me with him on the tractor, stood me up on his lap, and told me to look over his shoulder. I gleefully watched potatoes pop up behind the tractor as it tilled the land. To this day, I have yet to taste a green bean as good as Poppaw’s.
When my siblings, cousins, and I were little, he would drive us in his antique Ford pick-up truck down to play in the creek by their house, or out to a field to pick berries, or ‘into town’ to run an errand. We loved every minute of it.
He never apologized for being a “small town Southern man,” and he instilled in me a deep love and appreciation for my Arkansas roots. He didn’t hesitate to offer his opinion on any matter, even if you didn’t ask for it, but he listened as much as he spoke. I realize now that he taught me how to do both.
He loved the Razorbacks… and coffee, and oh, how excited I was to give him the “Arkansas Grandpa” coffee mug that I bought for him on campus during my freshman year at the University of Arkansas.
Every time I walked into Mommaw and Poppaw’s house or talked to him on the phone, I knew I would be greeted with “Hey, Baby!” And I never had to wonder whether or not he was proud of me, because he told me he was, all the time.
His preference for short hair was notorious in our family of mostly women, but he complimented my {long} hair twice during my last visit to his house before he died. He did this because he loved me and because he wanted me to know he thought I was beautiful, and when I looked at him to say thank you, I knew that he knew I understood.
christmas 2007
Here is a lovely word from my cousin’s blog because I want to remember all of these things, and she said them well:
“He started the football program and built part of the school where my mom and aunt grew up so that they could have better opportunities in school and a nice place to learn. He also got himself onto the school board in that same district, and made some changes in the staff that would benefit his daughters and give them the best education that he could. PawPaw has a handicapped daughter who brings joy to the whole family, and so he provided for her best interests by starting the first school for exceptional kids in Hot Spring County. He built his house with his own hands, and when it burned down, he built another one right next to it. This man knew no strangers, and could not be stopped by a little bit (or a lot) of work. He did what he had to do, and lots of things that he didn’t have to do. People at the visitation were telling my grandma about how Pop helped them get jobs several years ago. People respected his opinion, and these people still have those same jobs today.”
He loved quietly, but he loved completely and faithfully. He served his family and his community with all he had to give, always quick to extend a helping hand to anyone in need.
His life was a portrait of hard work, diligence, sacrifice, and dedication that I am so grateful to have been a part of for 25 years.
I love you, Pop, and I’ll see you soon.
