This past Monday marked 6 years since my granddaddy Terry passed away.

My granddaddy was like no other. Whenever we have family get togethers, I love to hear my grandma, daddy, aunt, and uncle tell stories from when they were growing up. The stories depict my granddaddy as stern, stubborn, and and a little less than warm and fuzzy. But, I can't help but notice the small tears accumulate in their eyes just thinking about him.

I never knew my granddaddy the way they describe him. He'd let my sister and I jump on top of him in his brown leather recliner and steal the binoculars he was using to bird watch. He'd let us comb what little hair he did have, and even let us put Noxzema all over his head to make it nice and shiny. He took us for four wheeler rides, ate orange swirled vanilla ice cream cones with us, and gave us a dime for every potato we pulled out of the ground. He only whipped me once, and I think it hurt him more than it hurt me, because he kissed me on the cheek afterwards. Nope, he wasn't the big ol' tough guy they always describe him as. He was my sweet granddaddy.

My granddaddy was a farmer. I pretty sure I never saw him wear shorts... not even once. He would wear a t-shirt with a pocket tucked into long, navy pants. He wore tall socks and shoes that he wouldn't mind getting a little dirt on. His balding head was protected from the relentless sun by a farmer trucker hat. Sometimes, my grandma will let me sleep in one of his old t-shirts. It consumes me and almost looks like a dress. I'm sure they've been washed multiple times, but I swear it still smells like him.

Granddaddy loved the land. I would spend summers with my grandparents in Sneads Ferry, about 15 minutes from the family farm. Grandma, Sarah, and I would pay several visits to my granddaddy while he was working. He always offered a pack of nabs and a mountain dew when we took a break from the heat of the outdoors. Of course, I would get tired of being outside with the bugs and the humidity, so I'd watch TV and let granddaddy do his thing. I always remember wondering how anyone could do that day in and day out, or why they would want to do it.

He was undoubtedly one of the smartest men I'll ever know. He knew or could figure out how to do anything. He knew a lot about the most important thing there is: life. I can still hear his voice, telling me life lessons left and right. He valued hard work. He always said that nothing was free, and if you wanted something you had to work to get it. "Caroline, if you don't have the money to buy something, you don't need it badly enough." He was great with his money, and taught me that saving it was important. "Caroline, if you have to force it, you're not doing it right. Be easy, and stop trying to rush everything." He also taught me how to be a business woman, even if I didn't realize it at the time. Every summer, we'd harvest a watermelon crop and it was my job to sit with grandma or granddaddy in the truck on the side of a Jacksonville highway and well... look pretty. Granddaddy would encourage me to take on the next customer, and I was always mortified to do so. However, the customers always came back, and eventually I could tell them whether the watermelon they picked was $3 or $4. I'll never forget those summers selling watermelons. It makes me smile to think of that girl who was once so scared to talk to people buying watermelons out of the back of a truck transform into a woman who loves conversation.

Granddaddy became sick the years close to his death. He became dependent on others to take him to doctor's appointments, and eventually could no longer work on the farm. He hated going to the doctor, and he hated sustaining his life only through daily medical care. He spent the very end of his life practically bed ridden in a hospital bed set up in the living room. I knew it's not how he wanted to live.

He always wanted to buy me a car. It was the first year the mustang was remodeled, and grandaddy gave me the catalog to make it how I wanted it. By the time the car was ready to be picked up, granddaddy couldn't get out of bed to see it anymore. We snapped a polaroid of it and showed it to him that way. That was the last time I saw my granddaddy alive. Grandma still has the polaroid on her refrigerator.

We were playing cards on the living room floor when we got the phone call that he was taking a turn for the worst. We left immediately, and arrived at the hospital a couple hours later. I just sat in the waiting room while I'm sure my family members told him goodbye. They didn't want me to remember him like that, so I never went in. We went back home really late that night, and drove back the next day. It wasn't until an hour into the drive that my dad told us he had passed away.

My granddaddy was a simple man. He requested to be buried in his sweatpants and placed in a simple wooden box. He got half of what he wanted. We buried him on the farm, the same land he worked everyday. The preacher told us a story of a time he was in financial trouble. A couple weeks after talking with my granddaddy, he received a check in the mail. The preacher never asked for it; my granddaddy was just that kinda man.

My grandfather died the summer before I got to high school, so he never saw me become an FFA member, or take any agriculture classes. What I would give to go back and turn off the TV and share those moment with him. He had so much knowledge to offer me, and I always wish I had appreciated agriculture then the way I do now. Lucky for me, granddaddy had many, many other ways of shaping who I am today.

I overheard grandma talking about apple pies my granddaddy made before he died. They still sit at the bottom of the freezer. She just can't make herself throw them away.

My grandfather may not have been the warmest or most emotional man in the world, but he had a kind heart and served other people on a daily basis. He did what he thought was right, every time and all the time. He cared about other people, even if he had a different way of showing it. You just had to accept him for who he was, and appreciate every bit of it.

It was hard to let go of my granddaddy, but I think it's safe to say I never really let him go. It's impossible. He left part of himself in the lessons he taught me, and in the land that will one day be mine. I can look back at the years I had with my granddaddy and laugh, tears escaping my eyes.

He was a good man, and my own daddy reminds me of him more and more every day.

I hope I can be half the man he grew to be.