Keeping Memories Close: Life.

Today is a sad day. Today is a happy day. Today I grieve. Today I celebrate. As these schizophrenic emotions flood me, I'm reminded of my humanity. Thank God! I can feel. My papa, Aaron Witt, was a good man. He was an even better papa. He was joyful. Always. And kind. He always waited for Mema to be seated before he'd start eating. He was a good host and if there was company, he made sure to have many stories to entertain them. Granted, some were made up, but stories aren't as interesting without a few embellishments. Just like clothes. He was a helper. When I was a young teenager, I earned a few extra dollars by (trying to) mow my Mema and Papa's grass. And he'd ALWAYS come out there...multiple times...to try and "do a few rows" for me. He loved children, babies in particularly. If my kids were ever crying, he'd say, "Come here, baby. What's she doing to you?" And when we first introduced him to Sage, he'd say, "What's your name?" I'd say, "Sage." "Page?" I still remember as a child, I wanted to catch a bird, and he told me if I poured salt on it that it couldn't fly. So there I was running in the yard with a salt shaker after birds. I'm sure the neighbors wondered what I was doing. He loved to sit on the porch on the swing on a nice day. Sometimes, I'd go sit with him. If you listened, he'd have some great things to say. Some would catch you off guard. After dinner, he always said, "Freada, do we have a cake, or a cookie..or something?" Ha, Kevin and I could imitate that one pretty well. If not, he'd say, "Well, malarkey." A fairly newer term was when asked how he was doing, he'd say, "Goodly." That just cracks me up. When I was growing up, and he and Mema owned the bait shop, we'd go fishing. That was his favorite. His go-to conversation with men (and women) was asking if they'd been fishing or hunting lately and if they worked at GE. As a child, I loved fishing, but I didn't want to touch anything. He put the worm on my hook and took the fish off. Everyone loved him at the nursing home, where he stayed the past few years, because he was funny and sweet. My FAVORITE story was when a nurse came into his room singing, and he looked at her and said, "I used to wish I could sing. Now I wish you could." BEST. Line. Ever. More special than anything, I think, was his bond with my grandmother. He was dealt more harsh health ailments in life than any person I've ever known, and she served him. And loved him. And never once thought of herself first, if at all. She'd fight anyone that dare challenged what her role was, too. She is the example of what a Godly wife is. She served him her entire life and early this morning (Friday, September 23, 2011), Papa left this life and went into eternity and the life he was meant to have. I actually began this blog last night (as the date says) because I knew deep down that he was going to go on in the night. I even woke up in the night at the time, that turned out to be, when he passed away. God was merciful and gracious to him and us. Papa was given many "death sentences" in his lifetime, and he proved every doctor wrong. But this time, it was time. Time to move on into the life that I can only dream of for him. Because he was unable to do so much here, I can only imagine that abundant life for him is that much sweeter. Well done, Papa.

This was spring break of this year. The nursing home had an Easter egg hunt, and all of his great grandchildren participated. This would turn out to be the last time I saw him, and I hold that close now because it was a great day.