Posted on by kellyyarborough

Pumpkin carving

There’s a first time for everything. This picture is a clear depiction of just that. Terry and I had been married almost 2 years. Until this particular day, I had been carving pumpkins with my munchkins.

As a matter of fact, my friend Nancy is the one who started this tradition with my boys. A few years earlier, she invited me and the boys to come carve pumpkins and roast pumpkin seeds. Neither of us had a clue what we were doing but we managed. The boys had so much fun, I knew we would do it again.

For the next few years, our pumpkins got a little more creative and elaborate. Mainly because my creative brother and mother were there to help. I am not creative. Let’s face it, my idea of drawing a person is a circle and lots of straight lines for torso and limbs.

Then in 1996, Terry got involved. We bought three pumpkins. One for each boy, of course Alex was too little to know or care. Terry took the boys outside to the porch and began to carve away. Ryan told him to make sure to cut the top off first and then they showed him how to take the guts out and separate the seeds. They loved playing in the slimy mess. Then each one wanted a distinct face carved. Golly, I wish I had pictures. I don’t remember precisely the faces but I remember how proud they were of their hard work.

I love this picture for so many reasons. I’ll restrain and limit myself to a few. Firstly, I see the special bond already existing between Terry and the boys, especially Matthew. The tenderness of him leaning in to kiss Terry shows his appreciation for Terry taking his time to carve pumpkins with them. Next, I love that Terry willingly involved himself in what the boys were doing. He didn’t always expect me to do it. Third, it just proves that Terry isn’t afraid to try anything. In fact, I don’t think there’s anything he can’t do, simply because he believes he can. That’s the way he rolls. One important fact to remember about Terry: he’s the professional at everything he does, at least that’s what he always tell us.

There would be other years of pumpkin carving and roasting pumpkin seeds; however, this was the first time for Terry and the boys.

In the scheme of things it’s the small stuff like this that matters the most. It’s not about the going and the doing. It’s about the being. Being available. Taking time. Being there. Love is always spelled the same way…..TIME. They will remember and so will you. Remember, time is the only thing we can never add to and once it’s gone, it doesn’t come back again.

Young parents, listen to me, the time you invest in your children while they’re young, you will never, never regret. Because all to soon they’re grown and walking out the door. In the famous words of Trace Adkins,

“You’re gonna miss this 
You’re gonna want this back 
You’re gonna wish these days hadn’t gone by so fast 
These are some good times…“

Posted on by kellyyarborough · 1 Comment

Another baby story…..27 years and counting.

When I began this blog thing, I began on February 12, 2017. The 19th birthday of my youngest child, Amy. Read Here.

Considering I have four children, I have four very different birth stories. And so today, on Matthews 27 birthday, I decided it would be a perfect day to tell another story.

First, I need to set the scene. Hopefully, I’ll find a picture to verify my story but in case I don’t, here goes. I looked as if I’d swallowed a giant watermelon and it sat sideways in my belly. I was huge. So big I could literally sit a plate flat and belly and eat from it. It wasn’t just my belly that was getting huge. About two weeks before Matthew was born, I was retaining fluid in my legs and feet. Most of the fluid was being held in small pockets on my legs. When walking these pockets of water began to rub together, creating tender skin and difficulties walking.

Matthew was due on October 2, 1991. On Friday, September 27, I trudged my way into the Doctors office. Dr. Ellis, concerned about the amount of fluid I was retaining, told me that he would induce me on Monday, September 30, unless I had the baby over the weekend.

The weekend drug on and on, I could barely walk due to the amount of fluid. I was sick and tired of sitting. I was utterly frustrated. On Sunday, I’d had enough. I decided I had to get out and walk. Every step was a struggle but I managed to make several laps around the outside of the house. It felt good just to be outside and not cooped up.

Later in the evening, I decided a bath would be relaxing. I convinced my sister to help me shave my legs because I couldn’t reach over the giant watermelon in front of me. Finally, I felt relaxed. As I was getting out of the tub, my water broke. Until that time, I hadn’t had one contraction. (This was very different that with Ryan).

We scurried about to get on our way to the hospital. We had a 30 minute drive from Columbus to Hendersonville. By the time we arrived, around 11:00 pm, my contractions were regular and coming about every 3 minutes. Baby was definitely on the way.

A little after midnight, September 30, Matthew was born, weighing in at 8lbs 11 oz and 21 1/2″ long. His head circumference was over 14 1/2″. He was my biggest baby. As soon as he came out, water gushed like a flood. Dr. Ellis said he’d never seen so much fluid come out behind a baby. He told us there was at least a gallon, maybe more. Needless to say, my watermelon sized belly was now almost completely flat and poor Dr. Ellis was soaked.

When I think about Matthew’s entrance into the world, It seems like only yesterday. Yet, when I look at my big man boy, and realize the years gone by, I am reminded that his life completely changed my heart forever. God knew exactly what He was doing when He gave me this child. He knew this child would stretch me and grow me in more ways that one. Determined. Strong-willed. A deep thinker. Adventurous. Generous and kind hearted, always putting the needs of others ahead of his own. He truly is one special and unique individual. True to the meaning of this name, a unique and special “gift from God”.

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Pure Joy

I found this picture and shared it a few years ago! I call it, “Pure Joy”. In fact, I can’t think of one thing that has ever given Popaw( and Mawmaw) more joy than family, especially the grand and great grandchildren.

There’s a story behind this picture.

At first glance it just appears Popaw and Matthew had been playing on the floor. Actually, that was not the case! In fact, for several days, Matthew had been so sick he could barely hold up his head. I’ve never seen a child hurl (puke) as much as he did. We were fortunate to keep liquids in him for more than 10 minutes. He was pitifully sick.

The boys and I had gone to stay the weekend with Mawmaw and Popaw. Snow was in the forecast but it was March. Besides, if you’ve lived in our neck of the woods, the mountains can breakup or dissuade any would be snow storms. However, it just so happened that is was the Blizzard of ’93! Accurately dubbed the ’93 Superstorm . Here

During the wee hours of the morning, Saturday March 13, I was awakened by a cough, then a gagging noise followed by the sound of rushing liquid pouring from Matthew’s mouth. The bed covered in vomit and him sitting in the middle of it all, crying. Mawmaw heard the commotion and came to help. We got Matthew cleaned up and sheets off the bed and just as things settled, Matthew got sick again, Fortunately, we kept it off his clothes. Unfortunately, he just kept throwing up. I knew the best thing to do was keep him from getting dehydrated. This became quite the chore because with every sip of water or chunk of ice, within minutes the volcano erupted again, and again, and again. We managed.

The snow came with a fury. Heaven had multiple dump trucks filled with the white stuff. Matthew continued to hurl. Fortunately, more time elapsed between episodes and water and ice became our friends. Then it happened, within 36 hours of Matthew being sick, Ryan started. His sickness didn’t have the vengeance of Matthew’s. Now, we had two puny little boys and a pile of snow so deep, we couldn’t dig out if we tried. We were stuck. Inside and out.

As if we, Mawmaw, Popaw and myself, weren’t tired enough from taking care of the boys, the unthinkable happened. They got sick, at the same time. I think they took turns back and forth to the bathroom, where they spent the better part of a day. The good news is the virus only lasted for about 24 hours for them. Ryan was recovering well. Matthew still had lingering effects but mostly better. That’s when picture was taken, Popaw was feeling better and so thrilled to see Matthew feeling better that he got down on the floor with him. Played with him and then grabbed him and hugged him.

As it turned out, we ended up staying with Mawmaw and Popaw for about 10 days. Not only were we waiting for the snow to clear, I got sick too.

Honestly, when I look at this picture and remember our time with them, there’s no place I’d rather have been during that time. More than that, for Mawmaw and Popaw, they loved having us there. Mawmaw always felt very useful when she was administering care and Popaw just loved having us around. There was always an inexplicable joy that came from being with them. And there was always “pure joy” whenever there was a child in their arms.

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Taste and See: A lesson from The Tom and Debbie Portion

As a young child, I had (still have) these incredibly awesome people in my life, Uncle Tom and Aunt Debbie.

I was the flower girl in their wedding. Funny story for another time, I threw the flower petals after the ceremony not as the bride was coming down the aisle.

After they were married, they lived in Tennessee, while the rest of the family lived in the Brevard/Rosman area. So, they always made an effort to ensure they bonded with all of us. They did this by taking us home with them for a week every summer. In fact, for most of us (cousins) spending time with Uncle Tom and Aunt Debbie, was a highlight of our summer.

Anyway, I clearly remember the first time Kristi and I went for a week. We sat down to the table to eat. Food was plentiful. However, Kristi and I didn’t like everything set before us and turned our noses at a few items. That’s when it happened. Aunt Debbie announced the following, “When you are visiting us, our rule is that you take a small portion of any food placed before you and try it. It’s called the Tom and Debbie portion.”

Guess what happened? I learned to like some food I’d never tasted or tried before. (Maybe that’s why I like food so much now). I also learned there were foods I just couldn’t stomach. Sometimes I could tell after the first bite if I liked it or not and sometimes it took the whole portion before I decided. In fact, there were times I may have to try it again and again before I could make a call.

As I’ve pondered this experience, I’ve come to the conclusion that God issues the same invitation to us. He invites us to try him. In fact the scripture says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him” Psalm 34:8

Isn’t it interesting that David issues this invitation to us? Just like the Tom and Debbie portion invited us to taste a little of everything. You may not like what you taste and the great thing about God is that He will never force his way in. He will wait patiently and you may have to taste more than one bite to determine if it’s good. In fact, you may have to try Him again and again and again before you see how sweet and pleasing and good He is.

Posted on by kellyyarborough

Gazing into Her Daddy’s Eyes

For the past twenty years I have loved watching the relationship develop between Amy and Terry. Truth be told, she loves him far more than she loves me and I’m totally ok with that. In fact, I wouldn’t want it any other way, He is the epitome of a “great dad”. No, he’s not perfect but he’s good and he loves well.

I can’t tell you how their gazes met when she was first born. I was kinda out of it. Read Here. As she got older when he would hold her and talk to her, her eyes were transfixed on his. He mesmerized her. Actually, I think he secretly hypnotized her into his likeness because they are certainly two of a kind.

Now that she’s twenty, things haven’t really changed all that much. I still see him catch her gaze when they’re together. It’s a beautiful sight. A complete adoration of affection between a loving father and his daughter. The radiance that beams on her face as her gaze meets his is like the full moon illuminating the night sky. It’s magical.

You want to know something? That’s what God, your Heavenly Father, wants from you and me! He wants us to stand in awe of Him. He wants us to be mesmerized by his goodness and grace. He wants our gaze upon Him and the handiwork of His hands.

Do you know why? He knows if our eyes are fully fixed on Him, our souls will be satisfied. He already knows that the things of this earth will fade away. They are temporary, even pain and suffering. This is what He wants us to understand. He wants our faces to beam with radiance for Him and His glory.

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In the Palm of His Hand

A few weeks ago at Moms, I decided to go check the concrete driveway to see if Ryan and Matthews feet prints were still visible. Keep in mind it’s been 25,almost 26 years since the concrete was poured. To my surprise, Ryan’s still prominently in tact. Matthew’s weren’t immediately visible until further inspection. Yet, I knew they were there. I helped hold him in the concrete. I watched Ned write his name above his feet print. The tiniest of etching remained. With my foot, I skimmed the surface and could feel the small indentions. Yes, the small feet were still there as well as the etching of his name. However, it wasn’t until I got on blended knee that I could more visibly see.

Isn’t that just like faith? Sometimes it’s clear and visible that we believe what we believe. There’s evidence all around that solidifies our faith. We feel so close to God and we see him working in and through our lives. There’s just no doubt. It’s real.

On the flip side, faith is murky at murky at best. You question everything, maybe not you, but I sure do! You know that you know that you know but where is the evidence that God is real and present? Where did he go? Why did he allow this thing? If he truly cares why doesn’t he do something? In those times, you have to know what his word is truth. You have to be reminded of how you’ve seen him work in the past. You just have to know that you know and when it’s not clear, you may have to get on bended knee to see with more clarity the evidence of faith.

I’ve often heard that faith is like a muscle and it must be stretched. I’m beginning to understand more each day the importance of both. When our faith is stretched it actually becomes more healthy over time with proper exercises. This is why reading, studying and memorizing God’s word is of high priority.

The one truth to remember from God’s word is found in Isaiah.

See, even when we lack in faith and we don’t feel like God is present. He hasn’t forgotten us because we are carved on the palm of his hand.

Posted on by kellyyarborough

A Visit With Popaw

It’s been awhile since I’ve told a story about Popaw.

First, let me give you a little health update on him. Two times this year he has been near death. However, in perfect Troy fashion, he’s rebounding and enjoying life again.

Most recently, he has been in Hospice care at The Bridge. After a few months of good loving care, his weakened body has regained strength and his suppressed appetite has been restored. This week he graduated out of Hospice care. Terry often says, “He’s a tough old bird.” I like to thing of him as a Timex: He takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

On Thursday, while visiting, I walked him to the elevator to go down for dinner. Three women with walkers were also waiting to go down. Being the gentleman, Popaw said, “Honey, we’ll just wait for the next one.”

All three women along with their gear rolled into the elevator. Once securely in they encouraged us to get in stating there was “plenty” of room for us.

Popaw was still hesitant but I convinced him there was room. He rolled walker over the threshold. The door closed and for a brief moment there was silence. Then he smiled at me and said, “I didn’t think there would be room for us with all of the these fat ladies in here”

Surprised by his comment, I stood speechless and quiet! Then I wanted to burst out laughing but knew that would be positively inappropriate, considering two of the women were rather large. Silence fell for a few moments and I was hopeful all three ladies were hearing impaired or had not heard his comment. Much to my dismay, they heard plainly.

One spoke up to say, “Did you hear what he just said? He called us fat! I don’t think I like him anymore”

Now I really had to keep myself contained and not burst into a fit of laughter. As I was trying, with all my might, to remain composed and stoic, another lady spoke up and said, “Well, I guess he was just talking about the two of us because the one in the back is as skinny as a rail.”

The elevator came to a halt and Popaw turned to them with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face and said, “I knew that would keep things lively.”

The doors opened and we all disbursed.

I kissed him goodbye as he went into the dining hall. As I walked away I thought, “I guess you can get away with saying just about anything when you get old.”

Later that evening, I replayed our visit that day. We had talked about a lot a things but near the end of our conversation he began to talk about Colleen and how much he missed her. “It’s hard to believe she’s been gone for eight years. You know, time is a funny thing. In some ways it moves so fast and other ways it seems to drag on.” Quite frankly, I am glad that his life continues to drag on because it gives me precious moments like these to spend time with him.

Posted on by kellyyarborough

A loss of innocence

A “loss of innocence” is a common theme in fiction, pop culture, and realism. It is often seen as an integral part of coming of age. It is usually thought of as an experience or period in a child’s life that widens their awareness of evil, pain or suffering in the world around them.

I’m just going to go ahead and give you fair warning.  This whole subject makes me want to curl up and cry like a baby. Honestly, I have a time or two.

I’m not sure at what age I realized that my life wasn’t normal and did not look anything like others my age.  I think my awareness began long before it should have.  I know by the time I was four, I was keenly aware things were not like my peers.

By the time I was one, my mom discovered a hideous mole on my dads back.  She encouraged him to have it checked out.  He did and it was malignant.  Melanoma. They removed a large portion around the perimeter of the mole. The portion was so large, it looked like a crater to me.  My little hand fit in the crevice of the dug out space.

Getting clear margins and feeling hopeful, the doctor said, “All should be well if you see no signs within 2 years.”

Nearing the end of the 2 years, another spot appeared.  This time, the cancer had spread.  Chemo would be necessary.  Considering the year was 1972, the best facility for treatment was at Baptist Hospital (aka Wake Forest Medical Center) in Winston Salem, NC.

Thus the journey began.

An entire week, every month, my dad would go for treatment.  Sometimes we would go but not often.  My dads brothers were gracious enough to take turns driving him and picking him up.

In addition, my aunt and uncle who lived in Winston helped with his care as well.  Days turned into weeks and weeks into years.

His body was worn and beaten.  He allowed them to try new treatment drugs on him in hopes to help others, not himself. He knew his time was coming to an end and so did I.

I think my mom tried as best she could to keep life as normal as she could but let’s be real, how many 5-6 year olds do you know whose parent is on chemo and gone for a week every month?  I didn’t know any at the time.  Not one of my friends and I’m not even sure they knew or understand how different my life was than theirs.

I learned, even then, to pretend that I was tough and strong. I could be like the others. You know, “fake it till you make it”. All the while, the voices in my head were screaming, “You’re different, You’re not like them.”

Then it happened, during a routine eye exam in Kindergarten, my teacher discovered I was not seeing 20/20. She informed my Mom. Mom took me first to an optometrist who had no couth told me I needed glasses pronto.. In fact, he was such a nice guy, Mom and I both left the office in tears.

Fortunately, we were given another recommendation and that’s when we met Dr. Gleaton. Not only did he have a terrific personality and calming nature, he also explained the necessity of glasses. Unlike the previous bully, he told me I had a “lazy eye” and would need to wear a patch over my good eye to strengthen the lazy one. By the time we left his office, I felt good about having glasses. Until I actually wore them for the first time.

Oh, the sneers and jeers. The jabs. The taunts. The snickers. I sat on the bank with tears streaming for what seemed like hours. Day after day. It made me see how cruel this world can really be and I was just six.

Now the voices were louder and eviler than before. Not only did I feel different. I felt unattractive, unworthy and yes, even unloved.

Here I was a kindergartner with a dying father and now being made fun of because I had to wear glasses with a patch.

Want to know what I learned? It’s called stuffing. Yep, just hide what you really feel and pretend you don’t care, even if your heart is being ripped to shreds.

On one hand, my father was sick and dying. I saw the cruelty of the disease stripping away his energy and zest for life. I saw how the chemo weakened his strong body. I had no one I could talk to, no one who understood. I don’t even know if anyone had any idea how aware I was.

Then my friends basically turned their backs on me., except one. It was just plain hard being a six year old for me.

Do you know what that year at the tender age of six created? A little thing called insecurity, which actually isn’t so little at all. Insecurity has followed me most of my life. There have been times when I’ve felt less insecure than others; but it’s always there, lurking about, waiting to pounce like a lion.

I have these voices that tell me time and again:

  • You’re not good enough
  • You’ll never be pretty enough
  • You’ll never escape your past
  • You are not worthy

What I’ve learned over the past 26 years, is that these voices will come but they don’t linger very long. I have weapons to fight against them now. I have the voice of truth echoing in my ear:

  • You are God’s workmanship (Ephesians 3:20)
  • You are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14
  • You are forgiven and free (John 3:16)
  • I paid a very high price for you and I say you are worthy (I Corinthians 6:20)

A loss of innocence at such a young age has always been a challenge for me. There was a point several years back when I heard or read something to the effect that it is important to grieve the loss of innocence when it’s been stripped from you. I’d never really contemplated the need to grieve over what was taken from me as a child; however, the more I thought about what was lost, the more I realized I needed to grieve. By taking time to grieve, it has given me some real insight to how this substantial loss has influenced and affected many areas of my life. A life that God is in the process of helping me break free

Posted on by kellyyarborough · 1 Comment

Unforgettable……forever etched in my mind

Recently I was at mom’s and there was a card left on the counter. I had already heard about the card. Alex told me about it! knew it if it brought tears to his eyes, I was in trouble. It was just a good thing that no one was there.

I knew Mom had left it there for me to read. So, I picked it up and began to slowly read the words Dr Anthony had written to Mom. It began something to the effect that it was way over due but wanted to let her know what a privilege it had been to have known Ned. His words were, “I think of Ned often. He is etched in my heart.”

As I read those words, all of the things that people said about him come flooding back.

A few days prior to his death, I asked family, co-workers and friends to tell me 3 words that came to mind when they thought of Ned. The response was overwhelming and we were able to read all of them to him prior to his death. He knew he was well-loved. In fact those at the Elizabeth House knew how loved he was. During his eight days there, there were more than 100 people who came to visit him.

At Ned’s request, I spoke at his Celebration service. I told the crowd there I was perplexed when he insisted that I speak on his behalf because he frequently gave me a hard time about my excessive talkativeness, dubbing it often as “diarrhea of the mouth”.

As I began to prepare for what God would have me say, I asked specifically for one word. Actually, I asked for a song with a one word title to best describe him. Almost instantaneously, the song, “Unforgettable” popped into my head. “That’s it. Precisely.” Then I began to pray over the scripture passage to use and one of my all-time favorites resonated clearly, Ephesians 2:10 “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which he prepared in advance for us to do.”

As God began to weave my thoughts with words, even I was shocked how quickly it all came together.

One of the most important aspects was not to just let people know what I thought about Ned but to also share how others including family, friends and coworkers felt about him.

Listed below are the things people said:

Unforgettable in every way!

Family:

Mom- love of my life

Terry- loyal, family, Nitro

Kristi- selfless, giving, caring, stubborn

David -loyal, dry, caring

Ryan – hardworking, devoted, stubborn

Matthew – my hero

Alex -stubborn, generous, dynamic

Amy- stubborn, strong, caring

Zach- stubborn, caring, strong

Haleigh -ornery, loving, stern

Marshall & June- stubborn, generous and rabid Florida St fan

Jennifer- love for Ann, stubborn, Seminole fan

Mark-smiling, fun-loving, and family oriented. Maxine-musical, faithful, and funny

Co-Workers

Amber- stubborn, loving, Ann

Mike Miller — Do you know how hard it is to describe Ned in 3 words, well here it goes: Friend, Mentor, and Blessing

Elizabeth Kohl — Great sense of humor, Compassionate, Down to Earth

Stephanie Cantwell — I can’t do just three! Wonderful Godly example as a supervisor, leader, husband, father and grandfather. We always knew where he stood but even when we were in the wrong he would discipline with a gentle heart and hand. It was a true pleasure to work with him and call him a friend.

Chris Denny

Here are my three words for The General; grouchy old codger! No not really, he was an example of a solid Christian man who lived his life setting that example, true to his faith and a very kind and caring soul. Once you found it! 😀 ok that was more than three but I couldn’t think of single words to express what he represents to me.

Steve Carter — FAITHFUL, ENDURING, HONORABLE

Jerry Rice – Faithful loving husband

Cheryl Griffin – Happy Papaw Nedward

– Humourous, Direct, Humble

Jerry Hartline – Loyal, Stubborn, Definitely a Christian

Cecelia Rossell – Stubbornly loving and caring

Friends

Doris & Robert- supportive, wholehearted, prompt, outspoken

Jim & Retha- OK Kelly. I talked with Retha. Here’s what we came up with.

Integrity – he always wants to do the right thing. You couldn’t get him to cheat if you wanted to.

Kindhearted – beneath that sometimes rough appearing exterior, he would do anything for you we have observed.

Missions – nobody could do it like Ned, and nobody ever will.

Bob & Carol Friend loyal honest direct. Talented, committed, Nitro

Robert & Norma Ned was a Friend, Christian servant, Missions-minded, Faithful, Focused, Organized, Dry, Frank, Competitive, and Meticulous.

It’s evident that Ned’s life had a profound effect on everyone who knew him!

I think most of us will agree that his stubbornness, while sometimes, abrasive, was the driving force behind the last 19 months of his courageous fight. He touched the lives of many, including those who took care of him.

He loved with great passion! He never did anything half way! He always finished everything he started including finishing his earthly race with dignity and pride!

What he said the day he decided to allow Hospice to care for him!

He left a mark, one way or another, on everyone he encountered. He passing is leaving a substantial void but his legacy is one to be admired and mimicked. Be who you are, no matter who you’re with and no matter where you go!

Ned Whitmire. You truly made your dash count.

Enjoy celebrating your 1st birthday in Heaven. For those of us you left behind, it’s still difficult to do life without you. You were such an integral part of all of our lives. We wouldn’t wish you back but knowing you’re waiting for us makes the desire and taste of Heaven sweeter every day.

Posted on by kellyyarborough · 1 Comment

Tattoos and Grandchildren

I’d planned to share a different story, maybe next time or not at all. This is the story I am suppose to share with you on the eve of Ned’s birthday.

This picture is the last time he stood between his grandchildren. Little did we know but 21 days after I took this picture, God would call him home.

About two weeks before this picture was taken Ned had been in the hospital and Amy made her “big announcement”. She was getting another tattoo.

Ned’s primary response was directed towards me and Terry, “I can’t believe y’all would let her go and do such a stupid thing and mark herself with a tattoo.”

Terry gently reminded him that Amy was 19 and could make her own decisions and also reminded him that she had worked all summer, “If she wants to spend her hard earned money on a tattoo, let her. It’s her money. I’m not paying for it.”

Ned huffed and frowned. His standard response to anything he didn’t like.

I popped in and said, “I know you don’t like tattoos but at least let her tell you about it. She’s put a lot of thought into it and designed it herself.”

She carefully described the tattoo and its meaning. She told him he had inspired her to draw it. (I’ll share a picture and story at the end). Suffice to say, she had us all in tears and I looked over and saw a tear gently roll down Neds cheek.

His response was something to the effect, “That’s a great sentiment but I still hate tattoos and think they’re stupid!”

No more was mentioned, until the day after she got her tattoo. It was on a Wednesday because he was in the ER. He was miserable and in a lot of pain. They finally got him settled and I said, “Amy got that tattoo.”

He snarled

I pulled out my phone and said, “Look! It even has your signature.”

He glanced and said “I’ve never signed anything “Nitro”. That is not my signature.”

I explained that the tattoo artist took the letters from his signature to make the name Nitro. In fact, the artist was so gifted he was able to turn an “a” in Neds handwriting to an “o” since there was not “o” in his name.

He still didn’t buy it and wanted to argue but I changed the subject to keep him from getting excited.

The first time he saw the tattoo up close and personal was on October 8 when this picture was taken.

He only looked at the tattoo once and said, “I still hate tattoos and I think people who put them on their bodies are stupid.”

We tried passionately to no avail to get him to let us take a picture of him and Amy with her tattoo. He adamantly refused to look at her tattoo. Saying, “Now, Kelly I’ve already told you that I think people who have tattoos are stupid and you don’t want me to think my granddaughter is stupid do you?”

Our best efforts failed; however, as I look back at this picture I am reminded again of how much effort it took him to stand for those photos that day. I am reminded of how strong he was in his fight against the lung cancer. I am reminded of how determined he was to keep on living. More than that, I am reminded of the genuine and real love he had for his grandchildren. They were the spark in his eye and the spring in his step. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for any of them. All they had to do was call and he was there. Always.

The tattoo and it’s story:

Hello all,

Here is a little something I figured I would share with everyone following this page.

Don’t knock it until you read about it. I designed it myself.

Triangle- Father, Son, Holy Spirit.

My papaw Ned believes in the divine purpose for his life, and trust the Lord through it all.

Daisy- April’s birth month flower, and my Papaw’s birth month.

Flowers to me have always represented the beauty in life, as well as the delicacy of life.

“Nitro”- my Papaw’s nickname for being a stubborn, strong, yet caring man. This is in his handwriting.

My Nitro has been battling lung cancer, as you all know, for a while now. He is still believing in the purpose, and beauty of the life he has been given. I have seen strength in him in a way that I have never seen before.

He is my inspiration to continue to push through the hard times, and always be strong.

Thank you to everyone who has supported, and prayed for my grandparents through all of this.

—

Amy Yarborough