I remember when I was very little and my grandparents would come to visit or when we would go to visit them, surprises were often involved. As a small child the anticipation of presents was sometimes just too much and I would ask my Little Boppie what I was getting. Her eyes would twinkle, while staying intent on her crocheting, and she would and reply, “Well, it’s about that size. Its about that shape.  Its about that color.” Nothing in her manner or expression gave any indication of which size, shape or color she was mentioning. I would pepper her with questions, about what shape, what size, what color. She would only continue her constant crocheting and say, “Its about that size, about that shape, about that color.” It was her way of teasing me and telling me that I would just have to be patient and find out when it was time. At first this was maddening but soon it was delightful.  I played the game with her and I would ask her, “What is my present like?!” just to hear her vague responses. She would smile and tell me again, but her stitches never slowed unless it was to pull up more yarn.

I called my grandmother Little Boppie.  The reason has been told to me because I don’t really remember it myself.  Mom and Little Boppie shared the telling of this story. Little Boppie would tell me her part of the story with a calm little smile and a twinkle in her eye, and a laugh that told me how much she enjoyed the story. Mom told me that when I was learning to talk, I couldn’t say “Grandpa.”  Instead, it came out as “Boppie.”  My Grandfather heard it and wouldn’t be called any other name but Boppie. I started calling my Grandmother Boppie, as well, but one day she asked me how they could both be “Boppie.”  I said, “He’s Big Boppie.” To which she said, “Who am I?” and I said, “You Little Boppie!”  Her eyes and laughter danced when she related her pleasure in being called Little and she wouldn’t be called anything else.

My grandmother taught me how to crochet, reminded me how to play solitaire, shared the joy of putting large puzzles together, and exemplified hospitality, generosity and unconditional love. It was very important to her to have her family all together at the same time whenever she could. Yet that desire didn’t stop her from showing hospitality to others. She would invite anybody to her house anytime of the year, and if you went away hungry it was your own fault.  If she knew someone in town who didn’t have a place to celebrate a holiday she invited them to come to her home.  She didn’t care if this was “her family” time, if that even entered her mind. Her actions taught me that as Christians we are part of a much bigger family and she treated those in the family of Christ the way she treated her own.  She would do just about anything for family or those in need.  The list of things would fill this page.

I was out of town as the last few days of her race in life were ending. I knew this was possible and part of me wasn’t sure if I should leave or not. This I cannot regret for I can’t change it, there was no way for me to predict the future. I remember the last time I saw her. It was the Saturday after she had her first very bad week in the hospital—a week I was blessed to be with her during some of the worst of it. The day we visited we brought the kids in too. I peeked through the crack in the door before I entered to check things out before I went in. She was sitting up in a chair! She was smiling and alert! She had that twinkle in her eye back. She looked better than I had seen her since maybe even before she had entered the hospital. We stayed in her room quite a while—as long as the kids could handle behaving themselves in a contained environment. She was put back in bed, and slept a little before I left but when I said, “Good Bye.” She was sitting up in the bed and alert again. I hugged her. I will never forget how she looked me in the eye or tone in her voice. She had certain intensity. Yet her eyes had the old twinkle. She quietly just above a whisper said with joy and sincerity, “I love you.” I said, “I love you.” She said it like she never had before. She had looked at me with joy before, she was always sincere, and had certainly said, “I love you” before, but I realized that moment was different. As I walked down the hospital hall I had a suspicion and now I believe my suspicion to be true. She knew.

Some of my earliest memories of my grandparents were visiting them at Fort Myers Beach. I have loved the ocean ever since. Something about the ocean and the beach are forever connected in my mind with my grandparents. I was at the ocean when I received the call that she was gone. Although I missed being with everyone at her last, there was something special about being at the edge of the ocean. During times of continued stress in my life pictures of it have often made my heart ache and yet comforted it at the same time. Sitting on the beach represents having no worries or fears—like childhood. The afternoon before I got the call about Little Boppie, I stepped out on the beach. The sun was shining on the ocean so brightly I could hardly look at it. With the peaceful sound of the roaring waves crashing, I thought, “Is this what heaven is like?” After I got the call, I pictured the bright scene in my mind and thought she knows what it is like now–No worries, no pain, just beautiful happiness. “But what is it like?!”  I can almost hear her saying, “Well, its about that size. Its about that shape. Its about that color.”

© J. A. Goggans 2008

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