It is 2015! TWO
THOUSAND FIFTEEN. When and how did that
happen? Wasn’t Y2K just yesterday? Life is entirely different than just a couple
of weeks ago when Jeff and I headed to Kansas to spend Christmas with my
family. The holidays ended up being
filled with more events and emotions than I could have ever expected when we
stepped on the plane heading east.
There were two main characters from the holidays that stood
out the most: Jeff (my now-fiance) and Jerry (my grandfather). I’ll start with Jeff.
In Topeka he met my family, experienced a traditional Christmas on the
prairie, and met many important people in my life. Nearly every neighbor and family friend
nicely threatened him to take good care of me, as I was a very special person. Yet he never flinched or wavered from wanting
to make me a more permanent part of his life.
On Christmas Day we all served at the Topeka Rescue Mission,
where my mom works. The Mission is a
fixture in both the Christian and Topeka community, as it is the only shelter
for those who are homeless or struggling immensely in poverty or substance abuse. It was, by far, the best possible way to
spend Christmas Day. Nearly 500 people
came to the Mission for a warm meal and gifts.
Those who came through the door were of every shape, color, and
age. Their need and the community’s
generosity brought me to the verge of tears many times that day. Jeff and I prayed for guests who wanted
prayer, and meandered around helping with other odds and ends. After a few hours, we headed home earlier
than my other family members.
Then Jeff said he had a gift for me. He had asked (and apparently received) my
Mom’s permission to marry me! He started
to play a worship song through Pandora and then gave me a Christmas-y box to
open. It had four coupons he made for me: 1 special letter, 1 hug, 1 “I love you,” and 1 gift at the bottom of the
box. That gift was a gorgeous engagement
ring. He pulled out a bonus “1 hand in
marriage” coupon from his pocket, took the ring, and got down on one knee. Right then, a commercial played on Pandora,
perkily advertising for a mattress sale at Macy’s! I couldn’t stop laughing. Later he grumbled about why on earth he
didn’t pay the extra $3.99 to get commercial-free radio. But after we composed ourselves, he asked if
I would marry him, and I said “Yes!”
I am looking forward to marrying Jeff, who loves me dearly
and loves Jesus even more. His
character, missions-minded heart, humor, humility, easy-going attitude, and
super hot body made it pretty easy to say yes to being his wife! I will provide more details on future plans
in the near future, but I’d like to talk about another love in my life, Jerrold
Gearhart or “Grandpa G.”
Later that day—still Christmas Day—we received the news from
my grandma that Grandpa G. had passed away peacefully in Rochester. He had gotten pneumonia earlier in December,
seemed to get better for a short while, and then declined again. He also had dementia for the past three years So on Christmas Day, Grandma was
still sitting by his side, holding his hand, as he went to celebrate Jesus’
birthday with Him in heaven. Most of his
children and grandchildren in far-flung places, including us, had choked out
our goodbyes over the phone to him a couple days before. Grandpa was one of my favorite and dearest people on earth.
He had lived his 92 years with great purpose and love. Losing him left me feeling cold and numb.
A few days later we jumped in the car and
drove 1200 miles northeast to frigid upstate New York, arriving on New Year’s
Eve. My entire extended family from
seven different states also arrived for his funeral. It was bittersweet to see my family members,
while knowing that Grandpa G. wasn’t there with us in person, regaling us with
his witty comments, corny jokes, and clever ditties or songs.
At 10 a.m. on the most beautiful, snowy Friday morning, we
laid Grandpa to rest at the Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Rochester. Although I knew Grandpa was in heaven, it was
still incredibly painful and sad to see his American flag-draped coffin being
carried by my cousins to his final resting place on earth. Four active duty Marines in their dress blues
saluted as they carried the casket to the tent that blocked us all from the
snow and cold. Grandpa had been a
decorated Marine Corps bomber pilot in World War II nearly 70 years ago. And so the Marine Corps Honor Guard stood
there with their faces and hands freezing off, in order to respectfully send
Grandpa on his way.
A deacon led us in a couple of prayers and said a few words,
which I don’t really remember. Petite
little Grandma G. bravely stood there in her black coat and cute white
hat. Two Marines came over to the coffin
to solemnly fold the flag into a triangle while one Marine played “Taps.” One of them walked to Grandma, handed her the
flag, saluted, and then told her the nation grieved for this loss and thanked
Grandpa for his incredible service to both God and country. How could anyone not burst into a flood of
tears?
Then Grandma walked up to the casket, placed her hand on it
and said in her typical fashion, “I haven’t done this before, Jerry, and don’t
know what to say, but thank you for a wonderful 62 years. Or was it 63?” Afterwards we all slowly made our way back to
the cars, right as the snow stopped and the sun peeked out from the wall of
gray clouds. Grandpa was in a better
place with his Savior, surrounded by his mother, father, and sisters, all while
knowing he had left earth better off with four amazing children and eight grandchildren.
Only family members were at the cemetery, so we all headed to the
funeral home for a memorial service, where 100 old neighbors, friends, and colleagues
showed up to honor such a beloved man.
My professional musician cousin, Eric, played the violin, and people
came to the front to share humorous and poignant memories of their father,
grandfather, and friend. I listened,
proud and enraptured, as colleagues from Kodak, where Grandpa worked for 35
years, shared about the “most brilliant chemical engineer” at all of Kodak. Kodak used to employ 60,000 people in Rochester before the company
disintegrated in the late 1990s. They
talked about how his patent made it possible for a huge Kodak Colorama sign to hang in Times Square for many years, how he
was a problem solver who could solve problems no one else could, and how he
taught many younger engineers everything they knew.
Then Andrea and I went up to talk about Grandpa. I went first, talking about how he never cut
corners and how I loved spending weeks at a time with him during the summers in
Kansas and on Cape Cod. He helped
explain my trigonometry homework to me when I only wanted the answers, he made
us walk seemingly for miles on the beach at Cape Cod to find the perfect spot,
he fulfilled his childhood dream by going to Antarctica for a month on a
Russian icebreaker when he was 71 years old, and he always lamented that guys
these days were blind and dumb for not dating or marrying me. I shared a bit more about his love and care
for us, and how it was fitting that I waited for just the right man he would
want me to be with and became engaged on the very day that he went to
heaven. Maybe he knew that his task of
watching out for the Freeze girls was coming to the end, as Jamie and Jeff now
had that role for Andrea and me.
Andrea next talked sweetly about her 20 year journey as
Grandpa’s apple pie apprentice. From the
age of 3, Grandpa taught Andrea how to make the best apple pie on earth. As the years progressed, she was given more
and more responsibilities when making an apple pie together. For the last pie she made with him on
Thanksgiving 2010, he just watched and gave some advice while she made the
whole pie. She had graduated as a
fully-credited apple pie maker, and Grandpa was proud. She also would miss his stories, humor, intelligence, hugs, and big precious eyes that could make anyone melt.
After the service, so many people stayed to chat. It was a happy crowd. No one was happy Grandpa was gone, but they
were delighted to have known him and learned from him and been in his
life. The mostly white-haired crowd
milled about in their reserved, dignified, and well-dressed Rochesterian way,
hugging my Grandma, laughing about some ski club story, or looking at pictures
of him throughout his life. It was a
fitting way to celebrate one the dearest men in my life. For 28 years he was
there
for me and my family, especially after my parents divorced. He taught me so many things, encouraged me,
challenged me, and delighted in his rediscovered Christian faith.
I love you, Grandpa, and will never forget you! Thank you for teaching me to be loved and how
to love. I hope and pray I will live a
worthwhile life like you. And I’ll see
you very soon once this short life has come to an end.
Jerrold J. Gearhart: September 29, 1922- December 25, 2014
Will dearly miss this handsome man! Grandpa on his sailboat in the 1980s.
Grandpa visited us often in Kansas and we always had the best time!
Andrea showing off the dollhouse Grandpa built for her.
The Thanksgiving when Grandpa and Andrea made their last apple pie.
All the family gathered in Rochester.
Andrea and Laura with their beaus on Christmas Eve.
