I lost one of the most influential people in my life last night, my grandfather Glenn Dawson. He was 84 years old and one of my best friends. He died at home surrounded by his family and we got to be with him through his final breath. Our whole family is devastated and we have a giant hole in our heart, but I wanted to take a few minutes to tell you how he influenced me.
My middle name is Glenn and I’ve always been so proud to be his namesake and have that connection with him. When I was young, he would take me camping, fishing, and enshrined in me a love of the outdoors. We would explore and he would talk to me about our surroundings in his soft, warm, easy-going voice. During our trips in his boat or motorhome there would always be music playing. Be it old country ballads, or wonderful classic country singers telling stories through their songs, I developed a love of storytelling and old-timey tunes from that man.
More than that, he taught me how to treat people. He was kind, humble, and filled with grace. He had a calm demeanor and you always felt at ease around him. His sense of humor was outstanding, most often a dry clever wit and you had to pay attention to not miss those subtle jokes. He could connect with anyone with his humor. He also had the most incredible love for his family. His eyes would light up when he would talk about my brother Adam or his amazing granddaughter Becca. His love of family was so strong that he put up with months and months of painful agony to get another week, day, or hour with those loved ones around him. It was clearly so difficult for him in the final months, but he was always selfless enough to ask how you were and tell you he loves you.
He was an amazing husband to my grandmother and taught me how to be a partner. He was plenty ornery at times, but overall, he loved his wife with all his heart and expressed it frequently. Watching the two of them dance would always fill my heart with joy. He wrote great poems. They were silly but they were heartfelt and I have strived to replicate them in my adulthood. He had a huge heart and wanted those closest to him to be the absolute best they could be. He would admonish me if I was overly critical of my grandmother or mom, ensuring that I see things from their point of view.
He taught me to be industrious and creative. In his prime he was a heavy equipment operator and had a career in the dirt moving business. I was fortunate to work at the company that he helped create for a couple of years in my late teens. The tales I would hear about his prowess on a tractor from the older employees made him sound larger-than-life. I still get to hear those tales from my father and brother who still work for that company. He built my crib and my first childhood bed. He was a fabulous woodworker and made some of the most beautiful bowls, pens, and trinkets I have ever seen. We would talk for hours about the subtle grain differences in different hardwoods.
For the past five years or so I tried not to miss a day visiting my Papa. As soon as I was up in my chair, I would be heading over to his garage to see what he was up to. We did a lot of mouth painting together, we would tease each other endlessly, I would watch him turn wood for hours on end, then watch him meticulously clean everything up so he was ready to start again tomorrow. Ultimately, our time in that garage was about so much more than woodworking. It was about a grandfather and grandson bonding and sharing life together. So often we would just sit and talk. Sometimes we’d just try to make each other laugh and other times we’d lift each other up from whatever was hurting our heart or body that day. He was my best friend and I’ll never forget the hundreds of hours we racked up together in that garage.
It’s really hard saying goodbye, but I have no doubt my mind that I’m the man I am today because of my Papa. He’ll always be with me and we have a connection much deeper than life or death. I am so damn fortunate to have a mountain of memories of an incredible man who lived a beautiful life. My heart is heavy from loss but full to the brim from all the love he gave me throughout my life. We lost a really special man yesterday and now I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make him proud. I love you Papa.
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