Frank’s Papa
Frank’s ‘Papa’
He was a good man,
My grandfather.
I remember the thrill of spending the night,
At Papa’s-
As a first-grader,
It felt so adult-like to be away from home.
Papa and I would watch the Grand Ole Opry.
Papa loved the Grand Ole Opry.
I didn’t really like it,
But it didn’t really matter.
Because I was there with Papa.
On Sundays after church,
Everybody would go to Papa’s house.
Jenny and I would play hide and go seek.
I’d hide under the covers,
While Papa would watch,
Some other decaying country music star.
Jenny would come running in,
Her face beaming from the thrill of the game.
“Papa, Do you know where Frank is?”
Peeking from under the covers,
I could see Papa grin and respond,
“Nope, Sorry.”
Then he would wink at me.
It was our little secret.
Whenever we would leave,
Jenny and I got a Popsicle.
Papa always gave us a popsicle.
When I was in the 8th grade,
Papa, Betty Sue and I went to Atlanta.
It was the last such trip he would ever take.
The confusion had entered his brain,
And was stealing his mind.
I had some difficulty understanding,
What was going on.
But I would learn over the next 8 years.
I remember another time in my early teens,
When Papa and I were in the mall.
The world started spinning,
And Papa spun with it.
He just couldn’t get his bearings,
And I was embarrassed.
How shallow and cold.
ME, embarrassed by HIM?
For that I regret.
Eventually it got to where
Papa would get lost on his daily walks.
So he had to move to a place he would be safe.
Soon after, he forgot how to say my name.
But he always said “I love you.”
In fact, that was the last thing I heard him say,
The last 100 things I heard him say.
For he got to where he couldn’t remember,
How to say anything else.
I’d say, “Good-bye Papa, I love you.”
And with a blank stare through the wall,
He’d utter back, “I love you too.”
He always said “I love You.”
I remember being in college,
It was February, and it was cold.
I received the call from home,
And I was cold.
So I drove home,
With tears in my eyes,
And memories in my soul,
To give Papa one final “Good-bye, I love you.”
On this day there was no Grand Ole Opry,
No hide and go seek,
And no popsicles.
As I looked at the same grin I knew as a boy,
Papa spoke to me one last time.
Not with words,
But with popsicles,
Hide and go seek,
And Grand Ole Oprys past.
He said, “I love you, too.”
He was a good man.
He Was A Good Man by Frank C. Permar,
proud Grandson of Charles F. Johnson, who passed in 1994 after battling Alzheimer’s for 10 years.
Copyright © 1995, 2008-2011 Frank C. Permar
Reprinted with permission.
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