Wednesday, January 31, 2007

With Danny and Lilly ...


Over Christmas, I was able to spend sometime with my family in South Bend, IN. I got a chance to hang out with my niece, Lilly (Pete and Meg's baby) and my nephew Danny (Care and Bill's baby).

Afternoon with Danny



Although the weather in South Bend was not what I was used to, my nephew Danny and I had some good times sliding down slides...

and feeding the Ducks.

Remembering Grandpa Bowler


My mom's dad passed away on January 25th, 2007 rather unexpectedly. He was a really hard worker who did not stop at anything. I was able to spend a few days in San Fransisco to celebrate his life. I thank God for the blessing that he was to me! The following is just a few of my memories...

I remember the fun vacations that the Brewer family took when I was younger - the kickball games in Golden Gate Park, the seal sightings on Pier 39, the rides on the Boardwalk in Santa Cruse. As I grew older, the fun times did not stop - horseback riding in Ireland, eating at fun restaurants in New Orleans, singing songs around the campfire in Michigan. And Grandpa was there in the middle of it everytime...horsebackriding along with his grand kids at the age of 80. He never missed an opportunity to live life to the fullest. In addition, he was constantly encouraging others to do the same. I felt extremely free to be myself around him because he made it clear that he was so proud of me. He wanted to announce to everyone that I was his granddaughter. I remember him introducing me to people saying... “This is Liz, she is a nurse. She is a really great nurse!”. It was unmistakable how proud he was of me. He never looked at me with an ounce of disapproval.
Grandpa had an enormous smile. I remember realizing at a very young age how to get him to smile. If he was reading the morning paper or watching the evening news, all I had to do was jump into his lap. Immediately, he would beam with an ear-to-ear grin. If we were on one of our many walks together, I would just slide my little hand into his big palm, and his countenance would change from one of concentration to one of pure joy.
In the summer of 1999, Trish and I took a trip to San Francisco in order to hang out with Grandpa. We had a such a blast! One afternoon, Trish and I went out and got our nails done. I came home with extensions on my fingers. After mass, Oliver, Delia, Grandpa, Uncle Mike, Trish and I went out to breakfast to the Big Heart - Video Cafe. While we were eating pancakes, Grandpa looked over at my French-tipped painted nails and bluntly stated...“You know Liz, if you cut those things every now and then, you wouldn’t have to pay to get them done”. He was quite surprised to discover that I had actually spent money adding length to my nails. He just responded with a little chuckle and another huge smile. He had a good point though . I must admit that I have not gotten nail extensions since.
In his eyes, I really could do no wrong. I can safely say that I have never experienced such unassuming, unconditional love from anyone.
My friend Gretchen, who used to live in South Bend with my parents, fondly remembers “Grandpa Mike”. She was always impressed with the way he would include her in conversations and remember the things that were going on in her life. The two of us went to lunch shortly after I had heard that my Grandpa died. As we talked about him, Gretchen began to ask all sorts of questions about him. I was telling her how much he loved going on walks and being apart of every important event in his grand kids’ lives. I was explaining to her that he used to love just watching us play together or listening to us sing in harmony with one another. He was known to treat us to ice cream or just hand us a twenty dollar bill. Then, Gretchen asked if there was ever anything that aggravated him. And I thought for a while and realized that I could not think of one thing that bothered him. My Grandpa was the most cheerful person I know. He wasn’t interested in being annoyed; he was too busy loving people unconditionally. Grandpa, thanks for eveything that you were to me.