It's pronounced, "Greppa"

I wasn't really sure how much of this I wanted to put on social media.  So I thought I would go about it this way, as not as many read my blog (yes, all 4 of you that keep up with me, small but mighty group) but I am one who writes, and figured this was a good way to lay it all out there.

One month shy of my 35th birthday I have lost my Grandfather.  That is unbelievable to think about, that in almost 35 years our family has seen such little loss.  Our gene pool must be made of steel and concrete because it's outstanding.  My Grandfather (or Greppa as we called him) was almost 87, and saw a lot in those years.  I'm not sure of exact dates or years, but he escaped Germany in World War 2 to arrive in Canada and arrived in London, ON to contribute as a construction worker on several municipal buildings, and retired from GM as a locomotive safety inspector.  He loved to say that "If I didn't give my say-so, those locomotives went nowhere!"  He was a father (and you can see that my Mom is every bit of him with her wrinkle-free skin) a grandfather and a great grandfather.

My Greppa and I weren't super close when I was growing up.  He was closer to my brother's and my cousin Jeff, but to me he was "keeper of the pool".  Oh my, growing up his backyard was my oasis, my better-than-Florida escape.  Mike & I spent almost every weekend there, and I would relish in the sleepovers and play time there.  I can picture him trolling around the backyard shirtless with the pool skimmer in one hand and the chlorine level indicator in the other.  Nary a leaf landed in that pool without Greppa skimming it away almost before it could touch the water.  He would water the garden and randomly spray us with the garden hose, and make sure the air conditioner was pumping so my brother and I could sit on a towel outside in front of it and dry off in the warm air.  

I remember when I was a bit older, I woke up before Mike and watched Greppa making breakfast.  He turned and said "Do you want some toast?"  He toasted rye bread, and rubbed raw garlic all over it after slathering it in butter.  I had discovered love.  Garlic love.  He also invented his now famous garlic potatoes, or as he said with his Czech accent, "bodadoes".  I remember my Mom calling me to the car after a day of swimming and I just kept running back into the house for one more bodado.  I make them often now, and almost as good as he did.  Even after losing his sight, he made the most amazing apple strudel (one without raisins for Mike & I, one with) and his beef barely soup was outstanding.

My Greppa was a strong, quiet man to me.  My Grandmother (Gremma) was the buddy to me in those early years, dressing me up and teaching me how to walk in high heels and waltz.  We would go for dinner to McDonalds every weekend, and I still remember one car ride on the way back from dinner, my Greppa blasting the car stereo to my Grandmothers surprise.  I think we all laughed so much because it was so out of his character.  (I also recall he turned it up to cover whatever my Gremma was saying) His red Volare station wagon, bopping along to some song he didn't know.

I have so many pictures of me as a kid at their house.  But not one I have found is my Greppa and I, because it was he who always held the camera.  Chasing me around, getting moments of all of us.  Mike & I still say that my grandfather always had the latest technology, the latest gadget, and he was perhaps the first person to puchase from The Shopping Channel.  I remember not even thinking video cameras were a big deal because he always had one.  We have a few cassettes of us talking as kids because he always had his microphone out, ready to record us bantering about church songs and school.  He loved a good thing-a-majig.

My Greppa was a hardcore Leafs and Blue Jays Fan, and a lifelong London Tigers and London Knights supporter.  He took us to games as kids, and sadly never got to see when Mike took over as announcer for the Knights over 10 years ago.  He could fortunately hear him on TV, and was beyond proud of him.  He got to see me sing, he got to see Dennis get married.  He was a lover of cats, which prompted us to smuggle Maggie into his nursing home twice, and an amazing carpenter.  Adam & I have 2 shelves of his, and Emilie and Liam now play with the dollhouse he made me...with working lights.  He was incredible.  He glued each shingle on individually.  Such grace with those worker hands.  He loved watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, and had a huge book that he wrote his lotto numbers in.  He loved jazz, and loved even more when I surprised him with a few random Ella numbers when he least expected it.  (I really don't think he knew what I did for a living on ships so I had to prove it.  Toughest audition ever.)  He loved Timmies French Vanilla coffee, Swiss Chalet chicken, Taco Bell "garlic chicken" (quesadillas), and any buffet he could find.  He was also known to enjoy a shot of the Czech herbal liqueur Becherovka on occasion.  He bought me my first gold piece of jewelry, a gold cross necklace, and bought me my first pair of gold hoop keeper earrings.  He was high class. 

My Greppa fought cancer twice, suffered a massive heart attack, a stroke, lost his sight suddenly when travelling in Europe, and most recently faced Parkinsons.  But none of these things won.  He always rallied, always proved doctors wrong.  We were alerted several times that "this could be it", but it never was.  It was like his little joke that he could bring us all together but would walk away in wonder as he went on to face another day.  His one wish was to make it to his 80th birthday.  Either he forgot, or just stopped counting because 80 came and went, and he decided to stay with us.  I think he was holding out for a Stanley Cup for the Leafs, but some fairy tales don't come true.

So Greppa, with your enviable skin (he had NO WRINKLES!  I wish I could claim it was Arbonne) and gorgeous head of hair that even Brill cream couldn't tame.  Always sharply dressed with your leather gloves, pressed pants and čepice (paperboy hat), and the smell of aftershave and Pert plus following behind you, what to say?

I am so proud to be your only granddaughter.  I am so grateful that you let us take over your house on weekends as kids.  I am so glad that I had those mornings with you while you got ready for work, and will forever remember our dance together at Dennis' wedding, when you whipped me around that dance floor like you yourself were a kid again.  I laugh about the times when Mike & Dennis were "torturing" me at home and I would call you begging you and Gremma to come and rescue me.  I am grateful that you instilled a real sense of pride in your work in us, and were always there to capture moments with your gadgets.  I will forever cherish that arm swipe you would give to close a conversation (typically about the Leafs and their fighting) and your sarcasm.  I am glad our last conversation was one that ended in laughter, and an "I Love You".
You slipped away in your sleep when you knew we were all busy, your way of saving us I think.  Strong and silent, your way, your time.

As we sang together these last few years...you are my Sunshine, and I am yours.  

Dobrou noc, Děda.  Budeme zpívat společně znovu.  Spěte dobře.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are greyYou never know, dear, how much I love youPlease don't take my sunshine away


The other night, dear, as I lay sleepingI dreamt I held you in my armsWhen I awoke, dear, I was mistakenSo I hung my head, and I cried


You are my sunshine, my only sunshineYou make me happy when skies are greyYou never know, dear, how much I love youPlease don't take my sunshine away


Please don't take my sunshine away