Grandpa Jay Is Bragging in Heaven

There are some moments that I tuck away when I meet someone special. I had one of

those moments with Jay. He was my daughter’s father-in-law. He was bald and wore

dark-rimmed glasses. He always sported a pair of suspenders. His smile lit up the room.

He was a congeal man with a gentle spirit.

     I first met Jay when our grandson, Arlo, was born. The day he came home from the

hospital, Jay held him nestled like a football. He began to sing a tender lullaby to the

six-pound baby in his arms. Arlo’s eyes were wide as he stared at his grandpa, mesmerized

by his alto crooning.

     Jay’s voice was rich and smooth. He’d performed in the theater in plays and musicals.

 I wish I’d snapped that picture because Jay passed away just a few months later. 

     The more I learned about Arlo’s other grandpop, the more I liked him.

As a judge, he’d done pro-bono work to help families. His family was surprised by

all the stories of gratitude at this funeral. He was a humble man with a kind heart.

    Jay was always prepared. He had a habit of collecting batteries. If there was ever a storm

and the electricity went out, he had enough reserve for forty flashlights, fifteen clocks, or

thirty-two remote controls. Every time he and his wife went shopping, he added batteries

of any size to their cart. His family teased him about this obsession, but that didn’t stop

him from adding to his stock.

      After Jay passed, and Arlo grew into a toddler, he channeled Jay’s fascination with batteries.

Any toy that broke, he claimed, “It needs a new battery.” It didn’t matter if it was a wooden

truck, a car, or a stuffed animal, sooner or later, they all needed a new battery.

    One day a walking, talking, dinosaur, also named Arlo, stopped working. He was mid-stride

on his way across the living room floor when he froze. Arlo declared, “We need to keep

batteries in this house for emergencies! This is an emergency! Who’s in charge of batteries?”

I think Jay smiled in Heaven that day.

    

One day Jay’s family gathered for a picnic. These are the times unexpected grief can

snag us. We expect holidays and special occasions to be sad, but the simple times in life

often catch us off guard. Their presence is sorely missed.

    

This day, Arlo spotted a little robot up on the mantel. The robot supposedly could do

all types of tricks. They all gathered to watch the show when the robot’s batteries died

seconds after it started. “Doesn’t anyone have any batteries in this house?” he shouted.

“This is another emergency!”

    Later, as dessert was served, Arlo piped in, “We don’t have any batteries at our house either!”

as if this were unfathomable. The second mention of batteries was a charm. “Oh my gosh!”

Jay’s son said as he broke into laughter. “You’re just like your grandpop!” That’s when

they reminisced about Jay’s fascination with collecting batteries and laughter filled the air.

     I don’t think Jay missed that picnic at all. I like to imagine Jay bragging in Heaven,

“I spent the afternoon with my grandson today.”