The last time I sat with my Pawpaw, he told me how he makes pimento cheese. It’s a simple enough recipe, but as a kid all I thought was “you made this?!” It’s literally cheddar cheese, pimento or roasted red peppers, some spices like garlic powder and cayenne, and mayo. Just mix it together and let it sit awhile in the fridge, and voila, you have a very happy grandson. I think I ate all of what he made that weekend, without hesitation or any feelings of guilt for not sharing any of it.
Pawpaw is dialectical or colloquial term of address for a grandfather. It comes from native cultures and cajun folk, and used in Southern Louisiana. My Mexican grandfather on my dad’s side is Pawpaw Jesse and not abuelo. And only outside of Louisiana I first encountered these crazy people who chose what they would like their grandchildren to call them. It’s just insanity to me to think of asking a child call someone their Bella or their Scout. Who do these people think they are?
He showed me how to store extension cords, how to cut a bevel, and how to use a rubber band to work a stripped out screw head. He told me how he would leave out the eggs and cream cheese on the counter overnight so all the ingredients for his cheesecake would be at room temperature before he mixed them. He showed me a curved pipe with hooks screwed alongside it that would hold his garden hose up so he could clean out the gutters without having to climb up on the ladder. He let me play with his drill press and scrap wood in his backyard shed. He showed me how he would place the French bread on the dashboard on the way home from the store, and then he showed me the intersection on Jefferson that was the exact halfway point from Breaux Mart and their house on 7th Street. When we crossed that intersection, he would have me flip the bread so both sides would be evenly warmed by the sun by the time we got to their house.
Most days after school, we would go to their house while my folks finished work for the day. He would pick us up in one of their two Volvos. His was gold, and it had seat warmers. When he wasn’t looking, we would turn on his seat warmer and wait. After a minute he would say, “Hey, d’you turn on my booty warmer?!” Oh he knew, and he gave us exactly what we wanted.
The last time I sat with him, Haven was about to turn two and Lisa was pregnant with Mary. We went with my folks and Haven slept the entire plane ride there and the plane ride back. She conked out as soon as they turned the plane engines on.
His voice was softer and his eyes weaker, but his mind and his memory was unchanged. He remembered the name of one of the stadiums my high school’s football team would play after I mentioned it offhand. The last time he went to that little football field in Kenner was thirteen years from our little conversation.
“Hey, d’you turn on my booty warmer?!”
He put my wife in her place at rummy.
She used to be so cocky with me, but then she experienced the lineage and the quiet quality he effused in his steady score keeping that he meticulously kept. When he and Mawmaw taught us how to play, and when we started getting pretty good, he would keep his head down and say with long and loud words, “Alright now, John Mark…” which would be a cue to me that he wasn’t a fan of how well I was doing. He was proud of me sure, but I just started playing a bunch of runs while he had two aces and a couple kings in his hand. We couldn’t cheat with them. They didn’t change the rules for us and they didn’t hold back to make sure we felt happy about the game. It was about the game, and we had to catch up.
So, years later and before we were dating, when Lisa and I would play rummy at Jeanne’s house late into the night, the trash talk and competitiveness came out of both of us. Wouldn’t you know, I felt I needed to call her after playing to apologize for my behavior? It would almost seem like I would purposefully play hard against her at Jeanne’s with the hope that I would have to/get to call her later.
He helped me flirt with a girl over cards, and I’m indebted to him and Mawmaw for it.
This Sunday night, my Pawpaw, Bill Spooner, took two deep breaths and fell asleep.
Last week he fell at home and it was discovered his blood oxygen levels were incredibly low. His lungs and his heart have slowed him down for years now, so last week Mawmaw brought him to the ER. They ran some tests, and hooked him up on a bunch of machines to get his blood oxygen levels back up. Even in his fog and confusion, my Mawmaw said he was building ships in his sleep and asking her to hand him tools. After they were able to get his oxygen levels back up, he was sitting up and eating breakfast in the morning before they released him.
When he came home, and after my folks and my uncle got to their house, his body began doing its’ work of being brought into rest. His kidneys began to shut down, he would sleep and only eat a couple bites of food when he would be awake. The hospice came and got him set up and Mawmaw didn’t leave his side.
I don’t think she’s slept for the past week and half to the past fifteen or so years.
When my folks got settled for the night last Friday, they called and let me know how he was doing. This wasn’t going to be like the past couple times he’s gone in for blood oxygen levels. They were getting ready for bed as was everyone else, but everyone was expecting him to pass some time that night or maybe that weekend.
So, on the phone I asked for my mom to go to him so I could talk with him. She was hesitant at first because sleep was so precious, but I could not be moved. She hung up and went downstairs, I reached over the side of the couch and grabbed Lisa’s bible and waited for the callback. I flipped to the Psalms and to Psalm 139.
When they called back, they were in his room. Mawmaw was there, but didn’t say anything. They put me on speaker and the room and every angel caring for my family listened to me say what I needed to say.
“Pawpaw, you have prayed for me every day of my life, and today I’m going to pray for you…”
Through tears, I read the psalm, all of it. I told him that I love Jesus and I have a good family because of him. I said, “I hope you are proud of me, because everything you’ve ever shown me or told me has told me that you are.” I told him that we were going to be just fine, my girls have a good and faithful dad with me, and Lisa has a good husband who will provide for her. I promised him that I’ll keep being the man I need to be for my family and I’ll love them just like he has expected of me to be.
He used to give me such a hard time whenever he heard that I was out of a job. One time he told me that I either needed to get myself together or get on the street with a tin cup asking for change.
My mom said he nodded and that he heard me. I told him that I loved him and that I’ll see him soon, just not soon enough. And then we ended the call.
I thought I would wake up the girls after I ended the call. From my chest, out came a kind of wailing I had never experienced before. Even the night when we learned my dad had suddenly passed, I was in such shock, that the grief wasn’t like this. In fact the night he did pass away, the first person I ran myself to for comfort was Pawpaw. I remember howling so hard, I nearly passed out if not for him catching me.
He used to win anvil lifting contests. Surely he was fine to catch me in my moment of overwhelming need for strong love.
That night though, it was deep and shaking, not violent or from a kind of anger, just immense and permeating sadness that came up from within me and into a loud aching sound.
“Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears…” – Jeremiah 9:1
Monday morning, I woke up and decided to build a birdhouse.
I took a personal day, asked Raychel to watch the girls, and took Lisa on a drive. We went on a loop through Bellevue and Laporte. We drove by our favorite taco truck, stopped into Lima coffee. We then went to Home Depot and I picked out a couple pieces of cypress and highly figured black walnut. I got my garage set up and transformed it from child play equipment and food storage space into an icon.
I got all the frame pieces except the roof cut to a rough size and shaped the angle of the roof pitch. It’s a 27º pitch, which is pretty steep, but with the overall height of the piece, I wanted to give a steep profile since it will be kept on a vaulted wall and I want to communicate height. It’s like how cathedrals are designed to be like arrows that point our eyes ever upward.
I was able to then sand the boards up to a 450 grit and then finish with some super fine steel wool. Once the whole piece is assembled, I’ll finish it with linseed oil to bring out the burls of the walnut and the striations of the cypress.
Monday night, while I was sitting at the kitchen table and after the girls were asleep, Pops called and told me, “He took two deep breaths and that was it. He just fell asleep.”
Lisa was upstairs talking with her mom, and I didn’t want to interrupt her. Pops and I prayed together, I asked him to make sure my mom and he gets some sleep. I asked if he had reached out to anyone else yet, and he told me James was next. We ended the call with love, and I sat quietly at the table and thanked the Lord for my Pawpaw.
I thanked Him not just for the peace that has come over his body and that it is no longer in pain, but also for the man he had always been with me. I thanked my Father for giving me this stout and strong and faithful man as my grandfather. He gave me a man few have had the honor to know as he let me know him to be.
Many knew him as an elder and deacon, many knew him for his baking and matter of fact service. Some knew him to bring me, my brother and sister, and Mawmaw to the hospital for visitations. Some knew him for his years as a mechanical and naval engineer. Some knew him as a Gideon who handed out countless pocket sized New Testament and Psalms bibles. But I got to know him as my Pawpaw who prays for me and my family every single day. And now I know him as the man who has gone before me and showed me a standard of love that I hope to cherish as I bring up my own little family.
“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation…”
Here is a link to a conversation I had with Pawpaw back in 2012. It was his last visit to Colorado and he spent the night in the hospital because of low blood oxygen levels due to Colorado Springs’ altitude.
Sincere Simple Sacred 
Such a beautiful tribute to a wonderful man. Thank you for sharing. I loved him also and have many happy memories with your grandparents. I feel your pain and continue to pray for you and yours 🙏🙏🙏💖🙏💖
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