102 Years

Is 102 years too long? Sometimes it is. For the person living those 102 years, it might be. 

Pépère was not a big man. But he was a physical man. With his stocky strength and large hands, he could build things and fix things. And that’s what he liked to do. For years, he refused to allow his failing body to stop him. He would figure out a way of getting things done. 

When he needed the help of a walker, and even a wheelchair, he would somehow manage to get out to his Wheel Horse and into the yard to get some work done. Passers-by on Milk Street would often stop in amazement and concern to ask if he needed any help. 

Age 95, taken in 2015 by Donald.

When the wheelchair became his only option, he still managed to do things – by enlisting the help of others. Sometimes many others. What we all found amazing was that he still wanted to do things, no matter how difficult or awkward. So we did what we could to make those things happen – sometimes with a bit of panic and holding our breath until we could sigh in relief or exhaustion.

Just shy of 102, taken this past summer by Nicole.

He loved his family.  Just about every time I saw him, he would say “I love my family” with an emphasis on the word “love”. He was also extremely proud of that family. And he took credit for that family.

He should have.

As my mother commented in a previous post to both him and my grandmother,

“You two are responsible for generations of family members who are always happy to spend time with one another.” 

If you think about it, that is quite an accomplishment.

But the last few years had been hard on him. His body continued to impose increasing limitations on him – limitations he did not want to accept. And he lost two of his children. Whenever I saw him, he told me with tears in his eyes that he was taking them (their ashes) with him. 

For him, 102 years was too long.

But for the rest of us, 102 years seems too short.

For Mémère who met him when she was 14 and made the fateful decision to move from the rumble seat at the back of his car up to front seat next to him. What does she do now without her husband of almost 82 years? 

For his remaining three children – the oldest who just turned 80 – who suddenly find themselves without a Dad. 

For his grandchildren who learned countless life lessons from him as they worked or ate beside him. 

For his great grandchildren who were yet another generation to listen to all the old stories on repeat.

For his great great grandson who, thank goodness, had the opportunity to meet him but won’t have the opportunity to get to know him.

 We miss you Pépère.