Farewell for Grandpa Byerly

For once, this post will be short and sweet. The pictures speak for themselves.

My Grandpa Byerly passed away on June 20th, 2008.

Although I am one of the only family members that is missing his memorial service in Minnesota today, I would like to share with them (and the blogosphere!) some of my memories related to Grandpa Byerly.

He was a war veteran, soul mate to Marge, father of 6, and grandfather of 11.

We really weren't as close as some children are to their grandparents, but this was mainly due to the fact that we lived 10 hours away. They were quite close to many of the other grandchildren that lived nearby. I developed a sort of fantasy world related to my paternal grandparents, based on the brief snippets of time that I spent with them. Looking back, some of these thoughts are hilarious! Maybe the rest of the family will get a kick out of hearing them too.

Grandpa's tattoos were fascinating, and I never really understood where they came from.
I always just assumed he was a rebel. Probably because he owned a motorcycle, and I didn't know anyone else that owned one. Ergo...he must have been in a biker gang. Duh. So obvious!

When we went up to visit them, he would take me outside and show me around their ultra-cool terraced back yard, or let me poke around in their basement filled with fish tanks and plants.

Grandpa and Grandma frequently sent me packages when I was very little, and I distinctly recall the following items:
a tape of the song Music Box Dancer that I would twirl around to for hours in our basement
maple sugar candy
"Lollies" - sweet tart-like pops that you can't find anywhere these days

It is clear to me where my daughter's red hair comes from. Grandpa's nickname was "Red".

He always wore bolo ties like this one.

Somewhere along the line Grandma told someone that we could just call them "Len & Marge".
Which made them instantly cool, because calling adults by first names was taboo.

I remember that he always smelled like cigarettes and chewing gum, and his whiskers ticked me when I gave him a kiss. When he'd let me go after a hug or kiss he would always say "ok then" and seem a little bit embarrassed at the affection. But I could always tell that he was pleased.

He had a series of chihuahuas that worshiped him shamelessly.

He loved his wife more than anything in the world and was very dependent upon her.
His world seemed to fall apart after Grandma died. It was heartbreaking for everyone to see.

Grandpa and Grandma often appeared to be free spirits to me.
They traveled to nearly every major park in the West, often taking their young children with them. Every winter they took their camper to the southwest (no, not an RV, a tiny little camper that they nicknamed the "Tartarus" after the ship on Dr. Who).
One year when I was around 6 yrs old, they stopped by to visit us in Missouri. When I went out to their camper they showed me all of these interesting items that they picked up during their travels:
a "shrunken" head (probably picked up at some silly tourist shop)
a tiny plastic toy slot machine (picked up in Nevada)
dried habanero chiles
large pieces of turquoise that they purchased in Mexico

How exotic were these people? Seriously, right then and there I decided that they were obviously witch doctors. Or outlaws on the run. Or that Grandpa was really Willy Nelson.
I'm sure I probably told some wild stories to my friends based on these assumptions!

Above all, I am grateful to my grandfather for raising such a wonderful man, who went on to become my Darling Dimpled Daddy, and my daughter's "Poohpa".
I know he is sad today, and I am sad for him.
So many of my father's interests can be directly traced back to activities that he did with his parents: his love of nature, biking, backpacking, gardening, and photography.

Much love to all of my family! I miss you all bunches today!