In Memory of Grandpa Corky.

Today is the service for my Grandpa Corky. My heart hurts that I was unable to visit him on our last abbreviated visit to Wisconsin. I wish I could be there to say goodbye, but am comforted in the knowledge that his spirit is everywhere, so I can send him my love surrounded by my boys. And as I sit here to reflect on how he affected my life, I am flooded with warm memories. I couldn’t come up with a bad memory if I tried. There simply isn’t one. This sounds unbelievable, but it is, nonetheless, completely true.

Shortly after high school I met my dad for the first time. Sure I knew him when I was little, but he was out of my life so early that I had no recollection of him. Occasionally random memories would pop in my head, but I could make no sense of them. Until I was twelve, my mom told me that my adopted stepdad was my biological father (I could come up with no reason to doubt her despite conflicting memories and name changes), so memories of my actual dad were merely confusing. I wrote them off as recollections of a man that made some impact on me as a toddler and left it at that.

By the time I graduated from high school my relationship with my adopted stepdad was filled with bitterness. My mom split with him, and due to reasons too complicated to explain here, I ended up with him along with my younger sister and brother. Life was difficult for my mom after the divorce, so when my dad (and his new family) offered to let me live with them, I was more than willing. Of course, I was so infatuated with him, and the promise of normal family life, that I believed it would be an easy transition. His wife, Deb, and kids (I inherited three new sisters!) were very kind and patient with me, but there was awkwardness. Over the years, we have grown closer. Deb is beyond incredible with my two boys and my heart is full. But this was a long, and sometimes difficult, journey.

In hindsight I laugh at my naïveté. I was an outsider intruding on an established family group. What about that says, “easy?”

There were cherished moments along the way, and today I want to focus on ones provided by my Grandpa Corky. He was Deb’s dad. As I reflect on his sassy personality, I search for the proper words to describe him. Cantankerous lite? Happy curmudgeon? His voice was gruff - with gravelly, harsh tones, but his words were all love. Early on in my transition he gave me the nickname Tuscon. He couldn’t remember my actual name, but this was a common issue he had with all the family. My sisters have their own nicknames. It was a moment of acceptance and I grasped onto it with all my might.

I also remember getting up early one morning so that he could teach me how to make breaded rainbow trout to go with our breakfast spread (so much delicious food!). He was incredibly patient with me. Once when I declared my distaste for venison, he tried to prepare it in different ways to sway my opinion. When after some tastings I refused to budge, he insisted I still hadn’t had it prepared properly. He was determined and cemented in his opinions.

He was also easy to rile. The mere mention of a spicy pepper would turn his face red with imagined heat on his tongue. His features would cloud over as if to ward away any unwanted peppers in the vicinity. My dad frequently tried to lure Corky unwittingly toward eating something spicy, and when Corky discovered my dad’s plotting, he would sputter and make a fuss. Discussion of football often garnered the same response. And being the loving granddaughter, I brought up the two topics frequently (with relish!).

During my last visits to Wisconsin I discovered banana cream pie. When my Aunt Sherry made this delectable dessert I quickly hovered around her with an eager palate. Corky shared my love of the pie and many (mostly) faux battles ensued. I would try to distract him in order to snag his pie. He would attempt the same. In time we would crouch over our respective pies distrustfully eyeing the other for suspicious behavior. Any limbs crossing over into the other’s jurisdiction would get jabbed by a protective fork.

These are only a few of my fond memories of an amazing man who made me feel accepted and loved. My spirits were always brightened in his presence.

I will miss you, Grandpa Corky. Thank you for all the smiles, the side-splitting laughter, the love and joy. You will always be in my heart.

-Tuscon