Brittany's "PoppyP Eulogy

Every life has impact. More often than not, we underplay the value of an individual contribution to the overall expanse of humanity. What no single person can comprehend is the ripple effect of the difference someone makes on this earth. Our desire for purpose and acceptance often leads us to try to quantify what we contribute, but no matter the time and effort expended, we’ll never know this side of Heaven.

On Tuesday, my poppy, James Waddell, passed away. The resulting cascade of his 93 years is immeasurable. We could start by adding up his brothers and sisters (their husbands and wives), his children (their husbands and wives), his grandchildren (their husbands and wives), and then his great-grandchildren. But since that number, by my count, rings in around 94 we’re already talking about a good chunk of people. Then, consider that those conservatively estimated 94 people are quite literally all over the place affecting those around them, well, we begin to enter a mind blown situation.

A person’s life isn’t just the continuation of their DNA. There is a lasting imprint of experiences that far outweigh the fact there are a ton of loud laughing, teary-eyed, food loving, long-story-short telling, bear hugging Waddell’s out there. As a naval electrician in World War 2, he not only fought for freedom, he inspired two of his sons and a grandson to do the same. In northern Ohio following the war, he made sure things were powered for a number of other companies, including Penton Publishing and Fanny Farmers Candies. See where I’m going here? Not only has his legacy continuously contributed to our country, but books and years of tasty treats for Valentines, Easters baskets, and Christmas stockings. His life exemplified the fact that it isn’t about what we do, but giving whatever we do everything we've got.

Even beyond his occupation is his family. My poppy loved his family, even when our kids-these-days decisions drove him crazy. His love for his wife and kids set a pretty high standard for every man in our family – and it definitely made the ladies a bit more picky. I’ll never forget when I brought Jimmy to meet my family and my grandma told me, “I like him, but I have special fondness for Jimmy’s.” She certainly wasn’t the only one, we have quite a few. Perhaps the greatest example he set was how he loved each one of us uniquely. Sure, there was the occasional wrong name, but considering we have more than our share of men named Jim, Terry, and Chris, he was bound to get it right sooner or later.

Every time I visited there was apple juice in the fridge. While that was probably my grandma, there were also Bomb pops – in hind sight, those might have been his, but he always shared.😉 When I called, he talked to me about the weather. What amazed me was that he would ask about something that had happened weeks or months prior. He would even ask about Jimmy. Even if we weren’t around, he was watching and he cared – even about the ones he’d only had a little while.

For him there was something unique about every single one. And he made sure we knew he loved us and was proud of us. That’s a love just keeps on going – the kind that lets you know there’s a safe place to land. Grandma used to say, “We’re nuts, but there’s not a bad one in the bunch.” Love will do that. Raising nine children was no small task, but they are men and women, raising men and women, who are raising men and women to be humans that genuinely care. That not only love and cherish one another, but others.

In a world that constantly reminds us of the temporary nature of things, my Poppy’s legacy reminds me to slow down and pace myself. He wasn’t all the things every day, he was who he was daily and that’s what resulted in an impression that can’t ever be measured. Love you, Poppy.