Some of my blog posts contain affiliate links to products that I may receive a commission on when purchases are made through these links. This is at no additional cost to you. Thank you for supporting my blog.
June 2, 2013
My grandfather died today at the age of 87 years old. He was a boisterous man who exuded humility, strength, honour, faith and compassion. He was deeply respected by his family and community. Grandpa was a true patriarch; married to my beautiful grandmother for over 60 years, he fathered 6 children, 15 grandchildren, 17 great grandchildren (with 2 more on the way) and a whole bunch of in-laws.
He was the foundation of our family and the standard by which we all strived to be measured. You simply respected my grandfather, without hesitation. Not because of the threat of the infamous “strap” that I’m sure none of us kids ever laid eyes on, but simply because you fiercely loved him and always wanted to make him proud.
Grandpa was a cattle and grain farmer for almost 40 years. I have fond memories of the weekends we would pack up and head to the farm. I was always bursting with great anticipation as we drove down the number 1 highway heading east out of the city. Having a farm to go to made me feel like I was a part of something meaningful…that I had roots. The farm was full of adventure, cousins, aunts, uncles and delicious meals. I remember the farm house always being filled with love, laughter and delectable smells of baking or a turkey in the oven. It felt like home.
Grandpa, I remember your smell…like tractor grease and Old Spice…I remember your hands…so big and strong yet so tender to hold after too long in between visits. I remember how handsome you looked on Sunday mornings as you sat patiently in the car waiting for us to pile in and get to church on time. I have so many memories of you sitting on the stool by the door putting your shoes on to head up town for coffee. It was such a thrill if you’d take us along and buy us a pica pop at the café. You taught us to put Beehive corn syrup on toast for bed lunch and loads of brown sugar on our porridge for breakfast. I remember your silly side and how you were never afraid to do something crazy to get a laugh out of us. I remember your smile. I loved you so much.
Grandpa, you taught me the importance of family, God and hard work. I am certain you are the reason why I love being on our farm with my husband now and how I did not hesitate when the opportunity arose for me to move out here. Driving up the lane feels like I am entering the arms of the family who loves me and will protect me. Being out here surrounded by the trees, the vast blue sky and the sounds of cattle and machinery in the distance takes me back to a time when life seemed so much simpler…so much more wholesome. There is nowhere else I would rather be. I take comfort in knowing that being out here will make me feel closer to you somehow. I know you are watching over us and ensuring we have a bumper crop this fall. Haha…work your charm on Mother Nature Papa, will you?
Rest in peace sweet Grandfather…until we meet again.
[…] grandpa Beliveau’s family was originally from Quebec but migrated to the prairies bringing their […]