My Grandfather

My grandfather, Andrew Joseph Kearney, Sr. was many things to many different people. He was the little, full-of-energy man that would always be concerned for others. Some knew him as the "bad guy" due to his twenty-five years of service in the police force. He posed as the police officer for the statue A Friend at the Roundhouse in Center City. That’s exactly what he was, a friend to everyone. If you knew my grandfather, you were almost welcome as a member of his extended family immediately. My grandfather was one of the most respectful people I ever knew. He spread that to everyone he met. He was the singing mailman for the older ladies of his community and they all loved him for it.
Just as I am, my grandfather was a huge Philadelphia sports fan. He would be ecstatic right now with the Phillies playoff run. We would always talk in the car on the way over to pick up lunch, and, as usual, the Phillies were THE team to discuss. To Pop, it was always that "the team runs hot and cold." And in most instances he was right, but he would be very proud of them right now for what they have endured this season to get to where they are at.
My father and I would always go out to visit him and his wife on certain Saturday afternoons at their Oxford home. Each time we would go there, I would always bring my i-Pod for the particularly long and tedious ride. As soon as we got there, pop would be there to greet us at the front door, usually hunched over more and more each time due to his back troubles. He would talk and then quickly grab the phone to order lunch, and then we would go and pick it up in his car. Even though the ride took about an hour each way, I would give anything to have those rides back just once more.
He also was one of the most confident people I knew. Despite his battle with prostate cancer, he remained optimistic until his final days. He always was very upbeat, energetic and ready to go. But when cancer hit, it hit hard. To see a man so strong then broken down, ashy, and gray was tough. The cancer was weakening him and life was limited but that did not mean our time together was limited and it still isn’t even now. We went out to see him wherever he was at every opportunity we had. It was great for him. We knew he really loved that. Whenever we would bring him some South Philly pretzels, that would always brighten him up a little bit. Our Father’s Day visit is a day that I will forever cherish. That was about when he was first hospitalized and having him sitting there watching a golf tournament saying how confident he was that he would get through this was a great sign. Though he did not beat cancer, at age seventy-five he gave it everything he had until the very end, the same way that he lived every single day of his life. Whether that being in a serviceable way or in any other way – that was the way he was then and always.
Now only the memories remain, but they last forever. Memories of a man so beloved and respected, memories of his years of dedication and service to his country and community. The day of his funeral this past summer was obviously tough on me, but I was greatly consoled by some of the comments people that knew him had to say. Even the people that did not know him all that well had nothing but terrific things to remember him by. From people that knew him from working in security at Penn State to the local people, everyone had such kind things to say, making the day somewhat easier. But then as the American flag lay across my grandfather’s casket, I viewed that as something to be very proud of. Witnessing the sign of our great country covering my grandfather’s body was something that I will always honor and take pride in. I carry on his good name and will try my best to live my life the way he did. All of this makes me proud of the young man I am and the man he was.