This past week, I've experienced the birth of a new neice, Little Quincy. I arrived intown just in time for arrival...and I consider it no coincidence. [more on her later]
But this Easter, we also commemorate the passing of another, my Grandpa Knick.
Knowing the end was not much further, my dad made a trip to see him and had just returned from visiting him when he was updating us at Easter Dinner. While he was still in amazing mental capacity, his physical help had been rapidly detoriating. He was in a lot of pain and had lost the motivation to keep fighting. My dad mentioned to him how proud he was to have him as a Father and to bare his name. And not being able to talk, Grandpa Knick just held on to his hand and didn't let go.
Looking back at my own childhood, I remember how Grandpa and Grandma Knick gave me my first set of scriptures when I turned 8. For the next few years, I wouldn't let anyone mark in them or lay a finger on them -- they were priceless to me. In college, I remember reaching my last semester and being completely and 100% broke. I thought I had exhausted all financial resources, but then remembered the savings bonds I had been given as a child. For my wedding, he made the special trip to be there, even though it had become more and more difficult for them to travel. In the celestial room of the temple, I remember seeing my grandparents in the room, and then looking into the reflective mirrors all the past ancestory our family has been built upon and the legacy Anthony and I hope to leave.
My only regret was not spending more time with my Grandpa Knick. We lived miles and miles away, and with a large family, traveling halfway across the US was a treck we only made a handful of times.
Looking back and my own childhood, I can see how much my father resembles my Grandpa Knick. In essense, I know him well because of the legacy he left with my own father.
My Dad mentioned how Grandpa Knick wasn't perfect but was human. Yet he had installed in him how to work hard and go after what you want -- and was always his number one supporter. My dad's no different - he has always supported my in all my ambitions. In college, I can only imagine how hard it was to have me leave thousands of miles away to BYU. Unlike my mother, who couldn't ever past the distance, he was my number one sounding board and supporter, whether it was the weekly calls, the voice of reason, or helping out here and there when I was dirt poor.
I'm grateful for the life well lived and the legacy left behind. I'm grateful he's left his frail exisistence on earth to return to a much holier sphere and will be re-united with other loved ones who have passed. I know Grandma Knick has been waiting.
Last year, we celebrated his 80th birthday. He was happy, healthy, and cracking jokes as usual. This is how I'll always remember him.
