In Memory of Stanley Donnelley (Oct. 18, 1927-September 16, 2008)

My grandpa, Stanley Donnelley, died this morning at approximately 4 am. Last Monday he was put in the hospital for what at first I understood to be kidney stones, but on Thursday the diagnosis was bone cancer and kidney cancer that had metastasized to his spine. My sister, Dawn, and I drove to Enid to see him late Thursday night and it was such a shock to see him lying so helplessly in the hospital bed in agonizing pain. Just a few months ago, Grandpa's doctor had told him that he was the "healthiest 80-year-old" that he knew. Grandpa still worked a little job that he went to every day. About 2 1/2 weeks ago, he and his neighbor had cleared out brush in the back yard. In short, Grandpa was still living an active, busy life. I expected him to live until he was 100 years old.

I have been so grateful that last year the family had a party to celebrate Grandpa's 80th birthday. It was a wonderful time where everyone wrote letters to him about their favorite memories with him and what he meant to them. It was truly a celebration of who he was as a person and a way to thank him for how he had served our family over the years. During the party, he was more talkative than I ever remember him being in a large group, regaling us with tales of meeting Will Rogers and Andy Griffith (whom he said was the only man he ever met who had bigger ears than he did!).

What a testimony of love this last week has been -- my aunts and uncles and cousins have flown in from all over the country to be at grandpa's side, to hold his hand, and to pray for him. This is amazing because none of us are blood relatives to Grandpa. He was my mother's (and aunts' and uncles') step-father. To most of us in my generation, though, he was the only grandpa we ever knew and therefore not our "step-grandfather" but our grandpa.

He snored louder than almost anyone I have heard (with the exception of my late Uncle Bo). He had this weird, quirky idea that you needed to put butter on every sandwich that you ate in order to aid digestion. In the summer when we visited, my sisters and I would try to sneak in and make our sandwiches without him knowing so that we would not have to put butter on our bologna and cheese sandwiches. I am not sure how, but usually he caught us and so I have eaten more bologna, cheese, mustard, and butter sandwiches than anyone should have to endure!

He searched for and found me my first car (a cute little yellow Kharmen Ghia). He made the best pancakes that he served with warm syrup. Probably everyone in the family has a least one time when Grandpa dropped everything to come diagnose and fix an automotive problem. He loved my Grandma more than anyone else ever loved her and took better care of her than anyone else in the world. He was a kind, gentle, patient man with a servant's heart whom I never heard complain.

The only comfort in his passing is that he is no longer in pain and he did not linger like this for a long period of time -- he would have hated not being able to go to work or to be on dialysis or to be dependent on someone else to take care of him. I also can rest in the fact that I know I will see him in heaven some day. Until then, I will think of him often and hope to serve my family as well as he did.