There is Only One Pap

"You're either going to learn to love me or hate me."

Imagine a 15-year old girl sitting on a chair in a farmhouse dining room. Now, imagine a father, a mother and a few siblings around the table eating Sunday dinner while this 15-year old watched and waited for her date to get back downstairs after changing his clothes. She was nervous and didn't know what to say. Then the father, better know as "Pap", in-between bites of slightly burnt corn, turns to her and speaks the words she'd never forget.

"You're either going to learn to love me or hate me."

Where oh where was Leo? And why was it taking him so long to change his clothes? And why was I sitting here? And what on earth did this man called Pap mean by that? After all, I didn't even know him yet.

That was March 1986. The Maple Festival Antique Car Show was the event and our date. I don't remember too much of what I saw that day, but I remember that one moment with Pap very clearly. I didn't know during these first weeks of dating Leo that I would someday marry him, but I wonder if Pap didn't somehow know I'd be around for a while. Maybe it was a farmer thing. Or not.

Pap knew I was young but he never told me that I was too young. He accepted me just as I was. He never cautioned me to not hurt Leo, to not break his heart, but I found out much later that he did caution Leo, as they drove in the pickup together down the lane, to "take care of her; she's really young."  I like that this man, who didn't always have a lot to say, who didn't "preach" at us often, could say one thing and be taken seriously and his advice heeded.

Not that he was a perfect man, a perfect father, or a perfect husband, but he lived what he believed to the best that he could. He gave an example to follow. I see it in my husband, my brother and sister-in-laws. And yes, my mother-in-law had a lot to do with that too. After all, who do you think kept Pap straight?

Over the past 28 years, I have grown to appreciate Pap. He may not have prayed aloud, but he lived loud. He may not have said "I love you", but he loved his children, all 13 of them and showed it in action rather than words. He accepted and loved the outlaws, made in-laws. He loved and maybe even spoiled a little, his grandchildren, all 39 of them. He was proud of and loved all 21 great-grandchildren, rejoicing in each new one that added to the masses. The final count? 100 of us. That's a lot of love.

Speaking of love….

"You'll either learn to love me or hate me." 

Well Pap, I can't say that I've always agreed with you and I may have had moments of frustration with a decision (or lack of decision). I may not have always seen the world the same way you did or agreed with all the same views, but we both served the same God and lived out our faith. Yes, I did learn to love you and really, it didn't take too much effort.

You will be missed. No one else laughs to the Bumblebee song the way you did. No one knows cows like you, and sorry, but those cow shows are still on the boring side to me. No one else gave horse-and-cart rides like you either. And when it comes down to it, there will just never be another "Pap" quite like you. It has been a privilege.

Love,
Dianne