Recently, I had the privilege to attend the funeral service of Mr. Gilbert Ingersoll. During the service a dominant thought emerged. Mr. Ingersoll was a man of God. It was shared that he read the Word, prayed and lived his life faithfully. In the service one of Mr. Ingersoll's granddaughters shared some wonderful thoughts and memories that I found to be very insightful and inspiring. Here are those thoughts...       - Ryan Farrell
 

A son, a brother, a husband, an uncle, a father, and a grandfather. All these titles he brought strength too and more personally, it was the grandfather title where he made the most impact on this little girl.

A man full of strength and influence and a man of dedication and love. A man who was tough enough to work in the garage with the cars, work at the wood splitter, fix anything that was broken – and yet tender enough to hold his grand-children to read them stories and caring enough to make sure his wife was always safe and sound. He was somewhat stern in his behaviour when it came to getting the work done, but that would soon break with a ride in the wheelbarrow, or a toss of a piece of wood towards the other, with that look of suspicion and the “up to no good” smile.

It was his smile and his small gestures that always reinforced his love. The kiss good night ever time we left his house, the wink across the room, or the side hug with no words said but a deep breathe and small smile. Coming to a basketball game, even though he did not understand it because he knew it was important to me. I can still remember at half time, going over to him and throwing my arms around him – “You jumped and they all jumped on you – you were on the bottom of it all. You wanted that ball, didn’t you?”

There was his sense of humour of wanting to fix my toe with a jack knife. The moments he got up from his chair, did his little limp, and his little groan with over-exaggeration added with the smile that brightened his eyes and raised his cheeks. The smirk he would give me, and the sarcastic voice of “what are you up to” as I snuck food from the cupboards and fridge. He loved to hear the stories his children would tell or the jokes that they had used in their previous sermons. You could tell that he was proud of each of his kids – in how they presented themselves and the life in which they all had worked hard for.

Then there was his style in which I loved. I can remember the excitement I had, when I stepped in Frenchy’s and saw the red and black plaid coat just like the one my Grampy had. I bought it and I continue to wear it proudly today. Then there was the night that I looked into the closet and saw the brown hat. I wanted to wear it to school so badly. Even though it was the “in” thing, my grandfather would not let me wear such a dirty hat.

Sitting on the lap of my grandfather started at an early age and continued up threw for 19 years. Whether it was at a basketball game, at home, or after church and whether I was sweaty, dirty, or just plain tired, he would still open his arms for me to sit. I was never too old to sit on my Grampy’s lap. I can remember putting my ear to his chest as he rubbed my back; his hands calloused; yet his breathing was soothing.

Staying overnight at Grammy and Grampy’s house I remember well. And the one thing that I can still distinctively hear is the voice of Grampy reading his Bible. He read with such passion, authority, and love. His humble spirit was always present and you could tell that he was in love with a God whom he trusted and cared for. No question ever doubted my mind about the beliefs of my Grandfather. He always was faithful and dedicated to the King of Kings and valued his relationship with the Lord.

Not just a grandfather to me – but a best friend. Sharing tears helped us to grow together. The moment that Grammy left this world, I broke down, but grampy’s strong arms were right there hugging me - and we mourned together. The time we won provincials, I ran over to a man whose tears met with my tears. I always have felt that crying was a weakness for me but the tears were no weakness in this relationship – it was a stronghold, a bond that held a little girl and her grandfather together.

- And now, Grampy, I stand and my tears are not met with yours anymore. No tears are needed as you are in the presence of the Beloved. But as one tear streaks down my cheek and falls to the ground, I will always remember my tall, striking, generous grandfather, who I looked up to, had fun with, and will forever love.