Papaw

Papaw died on May 18, 2015 at age 84. 

My Papaw, Thomas Dewitt Hankins, had a unique and gentile drawling accent. He always spoke with an economy of words.  He was handsome and always made a point to look his best and smell good.

Papaw loved music. He played guitar, even after losing his right hand.

Papaw loved horses and puppies and babies. And that squirrel named Flash. And that goat named Cracker Jack who was a jerk.

Papaw often worked multiple jobs to support his family. He was a cowboy who broke horses. He was a welder. He was a game warden and worked in law enforcement, among a number of other terribly interesting jobs.

Papaw was an American hero. He volunteered for military service and fought for our country in Korea where he was seriously wounded during a mortar attack. The explosion left his body scarred and full of shrapnel that remained for the rest of his life. He received a Purple Heart and the Louisiana Veterans Honor Medal in recognition of his sacrifice.

Papaw had a marvelous sense of humor. Not a soul could resist that grin accompanied by that mischievous twinkle in his eye, always present whether he was up to something or not. Smart, silly, creative and able to hold an audience. He was a raconteur, a skill he passed to successive generations.

Papaw was tender-hearted, sensitive to the pain and needs of others, even feeling guilty about having so many blessings in his life when there were others in the world who had so little.

Papaw adored his family above all. We were his treasure. Each one of us was his favorite. Nothing was more important to him than family.

Papaw loved my Mamaw. Seems odd to talk about Papaw in the singular, because he was half of a duet. Thomas and Ruby, Mama and Daddy, Mamaw and Papaw. They were a grand-parenting dream team. We were the luckiest grandkids ever, and I was their first one.

Papaw was one of the two most influential men in my life. He and my daddy showed me that good men love strong, independent women. Papaw always thought I was exceptionally talented and destined to be a star. My original biggest fan. I thought he was like a magician because having only one hand didn't stop him from doing anything as far as I could tell. He was always sad when we left his house because he missed us so much when we weren't there. Losing him is losing one of the primary sources that forged the person I am in this world. My identity. My heart.

I hope I love the way he loved, with reckless abandon. I hope I'm kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, like he did. I hope I'm worldly, and curious, and loyal, and silly and devoted beyond all good reason. I hope I have the strength to endure hardship and emerge on the other side with a depth of character that inspires others and gives me compassion and patience. I hope I'm worthy of this legacy he leaves, but I know for certain that he believed I'm worthy and capable of magnificent things. I love him for seeing all my beauty and will strive to see that in others as well.

Take your well-earned rest, sweet Papaw. Until we meet again.