Pappy, the Sponsor

Not that there's ever a good time for someone to pass, but I wish I was older when Pappy passed away. I was a teenager. Finishing high school, dating a girl for the first time, pimples; there was so much going on in my little universe that I didn't think that one day I'd want to know what Pappy thought about ... everything. Well, although Pappy passed away he also (and pardon the cheap pun) passed on so much to his kids and grand kids. I like to think that when his words or actions manifest in our heads, words, or actions, whether it's stirring tea loudly to wake someone up or feeding "chippers" and chickadees during the summer, he knows that we remember him.

Pappy, the Sponsor

I don't exactly remember the day he passed but I do remember a moment during the funeral, one that maybe people want to hear about.

I was sitting in the funeral parlor where Pappy was laid out. I was sitting on one of those chairs that you often see in reception halls: chrome legs, semi-circle chrome back, with tightly packed cushion. I was looking down, between my knees, at the dark green and maroon paisley designs on my seat cushion, trying to draw some of the deep, aching sadness in my gut, out through tears when I saw two black, polished but weathered, dress shoes stop in front of me.

"Excuse me."

"Yes." I looked up and saw a middle-aged looking down at me. I don't remember much about what he looked like but I remember that he had the look of someone who was duty-bound.

"Do you ever look like your grandfather. You're one of Barney's grand kids, right?" He smiled.

"Yeah, I'm one of his daughters' kids."

"I'm really sorry for your loss. I just wanted to let you know that Barney saved my life. He was my sponsor in AA. I wouldn't be here right now if he wasn't there for me. He helped a lot of people out by just being someone to call or to take a walk with." He then shook my hand. "I just wanted to say thanks."

I smiled, not knowing what to say. Later, my mom told me that when she, Colleen, and Pat were going through Pappy's things, they found a stack of business cards with Pappy's phone number on it. He'd printed them out, dozens of them, and handed them out to people struggling with alcoholism so that they could call him if they needed someone to talk with.

I don't know how he managed to support all these people when I knew that he was already one of the handful of people running the breakfast club at Riverview and was having my mom, my sister, and I over every few days. Uncle Pat said that he was a solid guy. A guy who did what he could "with the tool box he had."

Pappy did pass but maybe he didn't leave us without some ways of remembering him in that tool box of his.