This Time Last Year

I love to reminisce.  In fact, Brantley brought it to my attention that my family will sit around the table for hours after we've finished a meal retelling old stories and reliving old memories.  We've always done that, even with our extended families, and I wouldn't trade those times for anything.  Kyle and I are even guilty of calling each other up out of the blue because a random memory came to mind.  It's fun to see what details we both remember... or don't remember!   It's the same when I get together with friends, especially ones I haven't seen in a while.  It seems like all of my comments start out, "Do you remember that time when...?" 

Let me go ahead and apologize, because this time last year was a time in my life that I hope to never forget.  God orchestrated several seasons of my life all within four days.  On Thursday, September 16, 2010, Brantley made a surprise visit to my classroom shortly after school was dismissed for the day.  I was in my usual mode of preparing for the next day focused on getting everything in order when he just happened to drop in.  Within five minutes of his arrival, he let me know that my Papa had died around 11:00 that morning.  I remember the shock of hearing that news; news I'd dreaded hearing for years.  Of course, death is a part of life,and I knew the news would come some day, but all I could do was cry.  In that classroom with just Brantley and me, it truly felt like time stood still.  I didn't envy Brantley and his responsibility at that moment, but he was so respectful and gentle in the way that he told me.  He just held on to me as I took it all in.

You see, Martin Ernest Meetze, my Papa, was a man like no other.  Like everyone, he had his faults, but he was a major influence in my life in so many ways.  That entire weekend was spent with the Meetze family reliving our favorite memories of Papa... 

...Even though I was probably around seven years old at the time, I can still see him so clearly standing inside the doorway of his and Mema's house, looking so nervous, as he told me he'd run over my pink and purple bicycle (the one with the pom-poms).  It was my fault for leaving the bike in the middle of the driveway, but I think he was more upset than I was.  Whatever he was doing and wherever he was going were put to the side.  He took me out to his welding shop, and it wasn't long before the broken pink pedal was replaced with a white one.  For years, I rode my mismatched bike with pride! 

... I vividly remember snow days as a child mainly because Papa was usually outside waiting on Kyle and me so we could play.  He'd have his sled in tow and away we'd go.  It seemed like hours would go by while he pushed us down hills on that sled or took us for walks through the woods.  There's even a picture at Mema and Papa's of one of those very days.  He even talked Mema into getting on the sled with him one time.  Away they went, sledding down the hill towards the creek with Mema squealing the whole way down!

... Thank goodness for Papa's natural mechanical ability.  He was a welder who could fix and build anything... and everybody around knew it!  He was responsible for making many of my science projects look so good (and he even helped stage the pictures to make it look like I was the one hard at work).  He was responsible for teaching me how to strike my first arc and weld a decent weld.  And no matter how much work he had to do, he never seemed to mind if we just hung around the shop keeping him company.

... When I got to college, he was still there.  His love for the outdoors and watching things grow is what led me to pursue my love of agriculture.  During my early years at Clemson, I had the chance to appear in a television segment on At Home, Southern Style, a show produced on campus.  I needed leaf samples of common SC trees to use on the segment.  It was Papa who took me out that Sunday afternoon, just me and him, searching for and identifying specimens.

.... And a couple of times, it was just me and Papa sitting together in the deerstand.  He didn't have much to say, but that was fine with me.  I just liked being in his presence no matter how old I was.

... On my wedding day, I had the privilege of walking down the aisle arm-in-arm with my daddy and Papa.  He even danced with me at the reception, although I think it was completely out of character for him.

... Baylor's middle name is Martin.  I'd say that made Papa kinda proud because very seldom did he ever refer to him simply as "Baylor."  It was always "Baylor Martin."  He loved Baylor, and Baylor loved him.  There aren't many days that go by that Baylor doesn't mention or ask about Papa in some way.  They made quite a pair!

Brantley, Baylor, and I visited with Papa one last time just less than a week before he died.  I am forever grateful that God encouraged us to make that visit.  We had no idea that it would be our last, but it was time well spent.

That Thursday last year was just the beginning.  Over the next few days, we visited with family and friends as they shared their sympathies, and we celebrated Papa's life at Shiloh.  Little did we know what blessing God had in store for all of us who were missing our Papa something terrible...