A Cariad Life

November 7, 2024

My earliest memories include him…my Grandpa Bevard (we used the last name to differentiate between our two sets of grandparents–the “Bevards” were my dad’s family and the “Thomas” grandparents were my mom’s family–both sets wonderful, but they could not have been more different). He was always “grandpa” to me, but my cousin, Bambi, called him “Bup” first (with many following her lead)…to everyone else, he was “Jelly.”

He has always been called Jelly, even from a very young age–otherwise legally known as “Clarence Jr,” Grandpa was one of 10 children and grew up in Engadine, MI. He was a great baseball player (who always hoped to go pro) and served in the Army (before quickly realizing he wasn’t the sort for the military). Grandpa was a Bernie Sanders fan; an avid watcher of Westerns and the Detroit Tigers; a forklift driver for General Motors; and, lover of Tim Horton’s coffee. Even though he has four grandchildren, five great grandchildren, and three great-great grandchildren, he never had children of his own. He married my grandmother when my dad and his siblings were teenagers. To all of us, he was always family.

Jelly got his name because of his wonderful sense of humor–he was always laughing–it was contagious. He was silly, kind, and affectionate, and everyone loved him. As children, his nieces and nephews would always ask before a family get together, “Is Uncle Jelly going to be there?” They knew if he was they would have a great time. He made everything fun. As children, we were drawn to him–he would sing “Little Bunny Foo Foo” with us and let us beat him on top of the head everytime–laughing every single time. We would crawl up on his shoulders riding horsey; he would play with us, talk to us, tickle us, and gave so much love. He was safe and every one of us felt loved–children know, don’t they…when an adult truly cares for them.

As I got older, I was most struck by the generous spirit of of my grandpa and grandma. She managed a convenience store and he was working at GM, but every year they would drive from Michigan to NC in their big, early 80’s, navy blue Oldsmobile (I thought it had the most luxurious blue velvet seats). They would always ask that my mom make her lasagna (which really is wonderful) and they would take us shopping. Growing up with my single mom, this was such a treat–it was usually Kmart and Grandma would be sure to get a cart. For the next hour, she would load it up with clothes and toys for us. Then on Sunday after church, we would go to Kentucky Fried Chicken and get a bucket of chicken and sides (this is when it was good–or maybe that is just my memory) and enjoy a picnic in the park. They were up for watching anything we wanted on TV, bought “pop” for our meals, and played games endlessly with us.

They were this way with all the grandchildren (and later the greats and great-greats)–everyone of us (and then our spouses) got a birthday and Christmas cards with crisp bills. My grandparents were never wealthy, but they were so rich…their spirit of generosity and abundant investment into family remains with me now. Even after my grandma passed away fifteen years ago, my grandpa continued the tradition–keeping a list on his kitchen table of everyone’s birthday and addresses so he could send the cards. He even sent one to Chloe, my daughter-in-law, when he sent Noah’s birthday card because he didn’t know Chloe’s birthday and didn’t want to leave her out.

More than anything, my grandpa taught me how to love. I witnessed early on the deep love, admiration, and respect he had for my grandma. He thought he married above him, and I could always see that in how he looked at her. She was the only woman he ever loved he would say. They would laugh together constantly, and their love for one another–their genuine affection for one another was profound. Their marriage remains a model for me, reminding me that even when I am irritated with Darrell…take a step back and find the humor, the good. My aunt said recently that Grandpa just loved you completely and wholly for you were…he never asked you to be different–it was unconditional.

On October 8, after a horrific car accident, being in ICU,and then 10 days in hospice, my grandpa, at 90 years old, passed away. At the end of last month, we buried his ashes in Dewitt, MI, next to my grandma–the military played taps and presented the US flag to my Aunt Gail. I miss him, and each of us feel his loss–I’m not a huge fan of those cliche’ signs like “live, laugh, love,” but I realize those words best summarize Grandpa, Bup, and Jelly. His approach to life was simple, yet profound–work hard; be abundantly generous; always find the humor in every situation; and when you love, love for life–I am better for knowing him.