Grandpa

I've been wanting to write about my Grandpa Green. I have been having a hard time, though. There is so much I could say about him, yet for some reason words fail me. I can't organize my thoughts, so I guess I'll just start with words that come to mind when I think about Edgar Green.

Tough. Strong. Funny. Opinionated. Hard-worker. Determined. Stubborn. Loving. Spiritual. Patriotic. Generous. Tender-hearted. Encouraging. Proud.

He loved his family more than anything. My mom and aunts and uncle say they never heard him say "I love you," growing up, but they had no doubt of his love. As his grandkids, however, we were able to weasel those words out of him on occasion. When I was a kid he would always scowl when the camera came out, and it was a game to see if we could get him to smile. As he got older, though, the crusty old farmer fell away and we saw more and more of his soft heart.

He was a great big tease. He liked to rip our socks off and throw them on the roof or behind the couch. He would wrestle on the living room floor and get into food fights in the kitchen. If we asked him to refill our water at dinner, he'd pour the water clear to the rim of the cup so we'd have to lean over our plate and sip some before we could pick the cup up. He would throw cold water on us as we were playing in the hot tub. He would hold us down and tickle us. He teased my siblings and me about getting a pet rabbit instead of a dog, and every time he visited he said he'd eat the rabbit for dinner. So we named it Edgar (Eddie for short).

Whenever his children and their families came to visit, he would always make "hotcakes" (not pancakes!) at least once for breakfast. He would take us for rides through his fields on the 4-wheeler and we would squeal when we drove under the pivot sprinklers and got wet. In the winter he would attach an old shell from a pickup truck to the 4-wheeler and we would go sledding through the fields, bumping over the pivot tracks and getting covered in snow. One time when I was a child we were visiting and somehow all the other adults were out of the house, and Grandpa was in charge of lunch. He made us grilled cheese. My younger cousin complained that her sandwich was burned. I immediately jumped to my grandpa's defense and told my cousin to stop complaining; the sandwiches were perfect. I don't know why, but I just thought it was cool that my big tough grandpa was willing to make us lunch and I didn't care if they were a little burned. I loved spending time with him.

He liked to sit us down and tell us his opinions on everything, especially politics. From the time his granddaughters turned 18, he'd start asking us if we were dating anyone yet and when we were going to get married. We'd roll our eyes behind his back and our mothers would tell us, "Don't take him too seriously!"

One thing I did take seriously was his testimony of the Gospel. He served two missions with my grandma, one in Martin's Cove and one at Cove Fort. Our family visited them at each place. I remember him sitting down with our family at Martin's Cove and telling us the stories of the brave pioneers who had risked their lives there. He broke down in tears as he bore his testimony, and it was one of the first times I had ever seen him cry. I realized how important the Gospel was to him in that moment, and it has always stuck with me.

The last few years of his life were hard. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and he became anxious and nervous as his memory started to fail him. We are grateful that he never forgot any of us, that we never had to see his active and lively mind totally destroyed by the disease. In June of this year he was hospitalized for shingles, and not long after he also contracted meningitis. He was in constant pain, in and out of the hospital, and nowhere near his usual self. My mom and her siblings took turns helping out their mother with his care. As the weeks went on, they began to realize that this was the end for their beloved dad. All 5 of my grandpa's children, his wife, and two of his grandchildren were with him as he passed peacefully into the next life.

He was 73 years old, but it still feels like he was too young. I feel so lucky that I was able to know him and have a relationship with him and learn from him. I will always miss him. I love you, Grandpa!

(Also! Remember those two pictures I lost? My sister found them! I included them below. Miracles!)

Grandpa as a young man


Grandpa at my wedding; in the army; and with my Grandma. I love that picture of them together.


Me as a baby with Grandpa (this is one of the ones I lost).

With my sister and cousin


With his Grandson


With two granddaughters


With his granddaughter


As a missionary

With a Granddaughter


This is me and my grandpa dancing in my newly-finished basement. He was also singing. This is the other picture I lost. My grandma and grandpa would go out dancing when they were a young couple and sometimes they would bust out their old dance skills for us.




With my Grandma at their 50th wedding anniversary celebration


With his great-grandson, and with a twirly carrot :)


My grandpa with my kids. Eleanor on top, Lia on bottom. These were taken probably a year apart, and I just realized he's wearing the same shirt! Love that guy. I'm so glad my girls were able to meet him.