Grandpa Haws

My Grandpa Haws passed away this past week. Because of how late I am in my pregnancy, I decided that making a quick 24 hour trip to AZ wouldn't be the best option for me, and so I did not get to attend the funeral.

I wish I had been able to be with my family. A lot of relatives were able to travel for the funeral. Just as I imagine my grandpa is having a joyous reunion on the other side, I believe all who sojourned to Arizona are now having a joyous reunion as they gather together to celebrate his long life.

He was 92 at the time of his passing. He believed that garlic was the secret to good health, and he often smelled strongly of it. I remember teasing him whenever we'd go over to visit about how much his breath smelled and he'd laugh (more like chuckle) and then blow in my face so I'd get a better whiff.

My parents were diligent about bringing us over to each grandparent's home on the weekends--usually on Sunday afternoons--and I feel fortunate that I have been able to know my grandparents well in this life. I recall countless times in which my Grandpa sat with us and played Uno around a small table in his front room. Sometimes he'd take us on walks or show us his quilt that he had just worked on. Other times he'd help us pick fruit out of his backyard.

He told us so many stories, most were so unbelievable but yet he'd pass them off as being a real, true-to-life story. For instance, one time he told me that he had found the Lost Dutchman mine in the Superstition Mountains and it was guarded by some Indians. When he tried to enter to take the gold the Indians shot him with an arrow. When I questioned him about where his scar was he had me feel his belly button. I said, "Grandpa, that's a belly button, we all have those!" To which he chuckled, "Oh hops, then I guess they're genetic!" I also remember him telling us about an elf or a gnome that lived in a tall tree in his front yard. There was a branch that stood out from the rest of the tree and I was told that that was the little gnome's balcony. He told me that if I was quiet, maybe I'd get to sneak a peek at the gnome when he'd venture outside. Knowing that the story was probably less than true, still I wish I could tell you how many times I starred at that tree wishing for the gnome to show himself. That was my grandpa. A story teller.

He was also a hard worker. He lived a very productive life. From the stories that my dad tells me, he was always working where he could, doing what he could, to provide for his large family. Money was tight, but he worked hard so that his children could serve missions, and go to college.

Grandpa didn't like doctors and he believed that the human body could heal itself always. When he learned that I was to have my first knee surgery when I was 16 or 17, he tried his hardest to convince me not to have it done. His finger was permanently crooked because he refused treatment when it was broken.

Grandpa was one of the most diligent men I knew. He knew what was right and he tried his hardest to always do what the Lord would have him do. He read his scriptures, attended the temple, paid his tithing, said his prayers, etc. diligently. When I was a small girl, my sisters and I had a sleepover at Grandpa's and Grandma's and perhaps we were a little too giggly during the prayer. I remember Grandpa praying that we'd learn to be more reverent.

He was a wonderful man. I love my Grandpa. I hope to follow his example and I hope I can teach my children to do the same. Maybe he's on the other side helping us along now. I hope so. I love you, Grandpa.