Constancy

This Sunday Ticky-Tacky went to be with God. This is personally my first great loss, and I'm slowly beginning to understand what it means to loose someone like this. To process, I'd like to dedicate the next week of blogs to something I remember about him, and see where that takes us. Okay by you?  Good. Let's begin.

Constancy
As I'm sure many things are, I don't think I realized what a steady constant presence Ticky Tacky has been in my life until he is gone. Between all our many moves, and my many moves and countries later, Ticky Tacky and Mom-mom would always be found in the same house in nearly the same state - kept up but nothing fancy. The home had an odd way of luring you to sleep with it's steady character- we'd come to visit them both and find ourselves falling on couches later on! What a visit, but they always said they enjoyed it anyway. And seemed to understand.

We'd come as a family, and later on I'd come alone as an adult, then one day bringing Jon to pass their approval sometime two years ago. Ticky Tacky was always so glad to see us, or even just me, in his own way, generally leaving me to visit with mom-mom after a certain amount of time, although only after taking me out to lunch first. I can't tell you how much that meant during my single years, to be taken out by my grandpa with my grandma. Afterwards he'd generally vacate the womanly chatter to the sanity of the living room or his office.

All the rooms in their house have gone through so many changes - except his office. When we visited a few weeks ago, I took Jon through the house a bit, and of course visited the office. Stepping into the space, I felt immediately 6 years old again, sneaking into a place I knew I wasn't allowed, hoping to snag a coke out of the fridge. Twenty-some years later, there are still cokes in the fridge in the same location, except this time I can go on in without permission. Standing there was surreal, one room remaining so much the same through so much turbulence in life. Yet it felt so normal, and comforting, to feel like something  had remained the same through all of life's changes.

Ticky-Tacky was somewhat like that too. Very steady and nearly unchangeable.  We always knew what to expect - jokes, thoughts, the story about how he found an error in the dictionary, pointed it out to the authors, and didn't get a new dictionary in return. Maybe there'd be some mumbling about something or the other, however there was always a presence of love, and I would always leave with the solid knowledge he'd be very glad when I returned.

I'm going to miss that. A lot. (I can tell because I'm crying just writing about it!). It would be wrong if I didn't. And I hope I miss it for a long time, and seek to emulate the same welcoming in our own home when we settle down one day.

I am glad for one thing though. The next time we see him, there will be no returning, just a huge greeting and lots of laughter and sharing. I'll get to know him as a young man, and see him at his best. He himself will probably be able to speak a few languages (he was always in awe that I could speak German), and we'll all be together in a place that has always been Home in our hearts, in a place even more steadfast than Ticky Tacky's office - our place in God's presence, in His welcome and love.