Papa Nard
My Papa Nard passed away this morning. He was one of the hardest working, smartest, funniest, most responsible, strongest men I’ve ever known. He fought in World War 2, lost a brother in Korea, worked with his hands his whole life. He’d just turned 97. Right up until the end he was gardening, re-tiling, climbing up on the roof and cutting down branches with chainsaws (at 94!). He hasn’t kept cattle or horses in years, but the last time I saw him, a couple months ago, he drove me down to show me his land, proud of all he’d accomplished there. He missed my grandma a lot. It changed him. She used to have to nag him (all of us) to go to church, and most of the time she was there alone three times a week. When she died a few years ago, he sat on his porch crying with me and told me he wanted to be a better man, so he’d get to see Grandma Kate again. He started going to church every Sunday. He expected to always sit in ‘her row’ and he’d stand and look at anyone who might be sitting there before him, until they scooted over. He gave up drinking and smoking many years ago. When I was little, he taught me how to play kick the can. He did that Papa trick where he’d remove his thumb. He took us down to the creek to chase crayfish and water spiders. If one of us kids told him to “Shut up,” he’d say “If I shut up, how are you gonna get out?” which didn’t make any sense, but he’d say it with such a twinkle you’d have to laugh. He helped teach me to drive. He was still out shooting with me just a few years ago. He always kicked everyone’s ass at checkers, and even at Rummy a couple months ago. He was the sharpest, the wittiest, and the most fair. He only ever spanked me once. He told the best, the funniest stories. He improved himself his whole life, and helped people when he could. Everyone loved my Papa. Everyone. I don’t know if we make many men like him anymore. I don’t know if I deserved him, but I loved him.
