A Man Called Happy

When I was a very young child there was a man in my life who was very important to me. His name was Hiram Hughes and he was my Grandfather. My mother was his baby girl and I was the baby girl of his baby girl. It was a special relationship.

My Grandfather had to quit school when he was in the fourth grade. He worked hard all his life. He saw his drunken father gamble away the farm that was supposed to be the inheritance for him and his brothers. My Grandmother was a hot tempered woman who was never really contented about anything. I loved her but then she had mellowed a little by the time grandchildren came along.

My Grandfather's nickname was "Happy" because he was almost always in a good mood. He was an optimist and saw the good in life. He had his share of sorrows. He lost his mother when he was very young. He had the heartache of burying infant children. Nothing kept him down for long though.

My memories of him are from a distance of time. I was eight when he died. I remember the feel of whiskers on my face when he hugged me. I remember the overalls he always wore. Most of all I remember sitting on his lap as we rocked back and forth on the porch swing. He made me feel safe and happy.

When Grandfather died there was a huge crowd at his funeral because he was loved by so many people. Grandfather had the gift of touching people lives and making the world better because he was in it. He brought joy into people's lives.

I miss my Grandfather's sweetness but I am comforted by the fact that when it comes my time to go I will meet up with him again. That is one of the comforts that faith in a higher power brings. If you believe in God and Heaven then you believe that you will see your love ones again in the next life. I'm looking forward to that.