Grandpa says:
Beloved readers, I have enjoyed writing this column for so many years. Of all the articles, columns, manuals, stories, songs, jingles, and other things I have written, my association with The Voice has been the most personally fulfilling in my career. I am truly blessed to be a part of the community of The Voice. I thank my neighbors, my readers, my supporters, and my detractors, for having given to me the gift of acceptance. I leave you now with this thought: No matter what life brings to you; you can get through it as long as you have love in your heart. When you think about another person always remember, “Just like me, that person has hopes, dreams, hurts, and ambitions. All that person wants, is to live the life God gave them.” Grandpa loves you. I bid you peace.
A note from Grandpa’s family: Due to irreversible failing health, Grandpa has been moved to his beloved Agapé Woods, a privately-owned designated pollinator habitat protection area in Indiana. His cremains will be scattered among the flower beds so he always may be surrounded by nature’s beauty. Grandpa carried the following article in his wallet since his high school days:
“At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped. When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don’t call this my death bed. Call it my Bed of Life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives. Give my sight to a man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby’s face, or love in the eyes of a woman. Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain. Give my blood to the teenager who has been pulled from the wreckage of his car so he might live to see his grandchildren play. Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week. Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk. Explore every corner of my brain. Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that some day a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window. Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the wind to help the flowers grow. If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses, and all prejudice against my fellow man. Give my soul to God. If by chance you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all that I ask, I will live forever.”