"There is nothing you can tell me that would shock me"

(Picture of Par and Daddy Joe from January of 2008)

Daddy Joe—my dad’s father, my grandfather, & Par’s great-grandfather passed away this morning. Of course we mourn for our loss, but I praise God for his life and the love he gave to his entire family.


I was his favorite. As one of fourteen grandchildren, I realize that it is a dangerous accusation to make—but in truth, he did call me Favorite. This started probably 15 years ago when he introduced me to someone by the wrong name—he was so embarrassed and of course, I had my feelings hurt. But he covered nicely by saying, “Sorry, I don’t say her name much since I just call her my favorite”—and thus we began calling each other “Favorite.”


Daddy Joe had a way about him. I totally “got” his logic about things—for example—at one point in college I wanted something extravagant and had asked for it for my 21st birthday—my parents had said no over and over. I brought this up in front of everyone’s advocate–Daddy Joe. He heard my want and looked at my dad and said “Joe, that doesn’t seem unreasonable—if she really wants it and you can give it to her, then you should.” Music to my ears. Unfortunately for me, my parents never gave in—but something about Daddy Joe “sticking up for me” always made me feel special—and still does as I remember him and how ridiculous I was (and still am).


At this point—two things come to mind when I think about who Daddy Joe was to me. The first thing is ice cream. The man liked ice cream. One of my favorite memories was piling into Daddy Joe’s car (of course, no seatbelts—just a bunch of kids) to go get ice cream at Baskin-Robins every Sunday—just Daddy Joe and the grandkids. I can’t see, eat, or look at orange sherbet without all those happy memories rushing back.

(Picture of Daddy Joe and me dancing at my cousin's wedding in October 2002--my favorite picture of us)

The second is something that he told me before I went to college—and I am pretty sure he said this same thing to everyone else in our family at some point. He took me aside and said, “Liz, there is nothing you can tell me that would shock me—if you ever are in trouble or need to talk—please call—it will just be between us, I promise.” To be honest, I did take advantage of this “confessional” a few times—I’m sure that each time my “issue” was “a huge deal” but as I type this I can’t remember what “devastating” things I could have only shared with Daddy Joe—but maybe that is because I had shared it and he made me feel so much better and I was able to move on…


I ask that you will offer prayers for my grandmother, Mama Carol as she misses her husband—her best friend. And of course, prayers for my family as we deal with all that comes with losing someone we love.