A Small Man. A Large Presence.

My father-in-law, Paul C passed away yesterday. He was 90 years old.

According to pictures, Mr. C was never a very large man. He was straight and stout, but not very tall. When I met him, some 21-22 years ago, he was a little taller than me (I am 5'2"), and maybe 140-150 lbs. Over the past 5 or 6 years he has become smaller and thinner. With no fat on his body, he wore a sweater and sock cap mostly year round.

But when Mr. C walked into a room, you took notice. He had a deep, rich voice and it carried to all reaches of the room. He had a hearty laugh and a twinkle in his eye.

He loved to tease the girls when they were little by playing ventriloquist with their stuffed toys. His granddaughter 'M' especially took delight in these antics and would talk to the stuffed animals (to whom he was giving voice to) as if they were truly alive and speaking on their own.

He and Mrs. C, who passed a few years back, put on a wonderful spread and display at Thanksgiving. The first time we went to their house for Thanksgiving after Hubster and married, Arthur was 8 years old and not accustomed to such a fanfare exclaimed 'I feel like a princess' when she walked into the dining room with the turkey, fat, golden brown and gleaming on a table surrounded by visually temping side dishes, real china, crystal wine glasses and flickering candles. This absolutely tickled them to no end!

Mr. and Mrs. C accepted Arthur as their own grandchild, and not long after that 'M' and Courage came along. Birthdays and holidays were always fun, or at the least, interesting, at my in-laws. They are Catholic and I had to get used to seeing wine on the table for an 'every day' meal. It also took some adjustment on my part to hear an 'old' person curse like a sailor, and laugh at the same time!

Mr. C was a pilot in the Airforce, an accountant for Dobbins AFB after that, and then he volunteered his accounting abilities to his church for many years. He was the father of one son and two daughters, and the grandfather of three girls and two boys.

In the past few years when I visited Mr. C and would be leaving his house, he would warn me to drive carefully and to watch out for 'the crazy bastards', for he felt no one in Lawrenceville could drive worth a damn. I am inclined to agree!

I was with Mr. C when he passed. I prayed with him, stroked his hair and face, held his hand, and wet his lips. When he took his last breath, he was freed from the confines of his small and withered body, and God welcomed him into his arms.

God bless Mr. C. May he rest in eternal peace.