Doc Shuffett

This week has been wonderful and sad and wonderfully sad all at once. 
There are a million and one things I could focus on, but only one thing I want to talk about.

Since last Saturday, I have battled with what this week's post should be about. There were many things it could be about, but I knew what it would be about. Thursday, March 27th, I leaned down to let my Popadoc kiss my cheek for what I knew would be the last time. I flew to New York on Saturday, and dreaded the inevitable call I would get to tell me Popadoc had left this world and entered another.

Since then, I have written a few different versions of my own Popadoc tribute. Whether in my head, at the airport, or at my desk, none of them felt "right." They were either too sad or too long or too detached. In the few days since my grandfather has passed, I haven't yet found words to describe him with all of the love, sensitivity, and respect that he deserves. 

In October of last year, my cousin Dave, host of KET's Kentucky Life, did a segment on my Popadoc. I watched it today for the first time since it debuted. Within seconds, I was in tears. Sad tears mixed with grateful ones, as I can't describe how thankful I am to have such a recent and real depiction of my grandfather at my very fingertips. 

So, today, instead of battling myself over the "perfect" tribute, I want to share with you the 5-minute video I must have watched 10 times today. It won't take you long to see why he was so loved and why he will be so missed. 

My Popadoc is easily one of the greatest men I have ever known, and I am confident no one I encounter will ever match him in wisdom, sensibility, or work ethic. I am lucky to have only happy memories of my grandfather as I continue to keep searching for the certain words that will rightly convey my connection with him. But for now, I'm going to watch this video again. This time, I'm going to smile instead of cry.