Eugene "PaPa" Wood

Dave's grandfather passed away last night.

I had the pleasure of meeting him just three times, for Christmas in 2005, 2006, and this past year; on this visit, he was struggling to recover from a fall and his passing should not have been a shock, yet I felt a deep despair when I heard the news. A number of people have been lost this year who I knew better or encountered more in my life, but PaPa was the first in a direct line to my daughters to pass in their short lifetimes. Perhaps that explains this unexpected grief.

PaPa was a big man with a touch of a southern drawl and a warm sense of humor. He had a collection of baseball bats that covered all the walls of his garage. He got himself a 4-wheeler in his seventh or eighth decade, and used it to peruse his property. He took loving care of his wife Ruth. At the end, he charmed the pants off everyone at the hospital where he was enduring physical therapy and thinking about taking his leave.


Last week when we were at the hospital for Eleri, a man bearing a striking resemblance to PaPa was wheeled through the xray waiting area on a stretcher. Clio looked at me and said, "Mommy, where is Grandma's Daddy going?"

At the time, I found this remarkable- that she remembered PaPa from her brief encounter over Christmas, that she had simply grasped the great-grandather concept I found it so difficult to explain- but now, I find it profound.

He will be missed.