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Clyde "Gramps" Lee

02 February, 2021
"Gramps" 1918 - 2009

Affectionately known as “Gramps” to all that loved him, there is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him and wish he was here. I miss his stories and encouragement to not let the “Gotta do’s” get in the way of the “Wanna do’s.” I miss our camping trips and adventures on the farm. I even miss his “ornery” ways of tying our shoes together or giving me a hug, only to surprise me with a “wet willy” in my ear. So many memories, and so little time to share him with our own son - Gramps passed away the day before our son’s 3rd birthday. We keep his memory alive with stories and pictures and cherish the time we all had with him. He was a loving father, grandfather, and great-grandfather who taught us all so much about true love and the importance of family.

I would like to share something I wrote to honor my Gramps and his strong presence in all he did:

“Your hands next to mine, soft yet warn by years of wear and tear.  I look at our hands as if reminiscent of tiny road maps of what has come before us.  As we stack our hands one on top of the other, it is as if we are creating a tower of strength.  Lining our hands side by side as if to celebrate the generations and lineage of our family.  I used to look at your hands as a little girl-the cuts, the bruises, and the paper-thin skin that seemed to only just cover the veins popping beneath.  Those strong hands that carried the weight of the world in the war and the delicacy of a baby decades later.  Those hands that seemed to ground me in their presence- the mere presence of being next to you was enough to wrap me in a safe embrace.  Now, I look at my own hands and see the same nuances coming through-the subtle folds of skin that seem to ripple ever so gently as if a small pebble brushed in the water.  The skin with its small spots from being kissed by the sun.  My own veins popping from beneath my still intact skin yet presenting themselves as if a reminder that the clock is ticking.  Hands are a curious part of us-one that seems to tell a story throughout our lives and one of the things I long for the most in your absence.”