The legacy of Big Mick
In the early hours of Aug. 21, my phone rang with the news my grandfather had passed away. I had just seen him three days prior, making the news difficult to absorb.
Mick had come to the hospital to see me and welcome his newest great-grandchild, Grady, who was born the morning of Aug. 18. With much of the hospital parking lot under construction, it had been an ordeal for my grandparents, both in their 80s, to navigate the hospital’s winding path to the labor and delivery unit. However, there were no obstacles great enough to keep them away from a new greatgrandbaby.
The visit seemed brief after their long journey to my room, but just before leaving, my husband pushed my grandfather’s wheelchair up to Grady’s bed to make sure the two were properly introduced.
These were the last moments I shared with Mick, and what precious moments they were. As Mick sat there looking at Grady, his face beamed with love and pride at the sight of my boy. My husband would later say that few men so evidently loved the presence of babies and children as Big Mick.
My grandfather loved big. He was big in stature, which in-part, is the reason we all called him “Big Mick.” But he was even bigger in heart.
I spent much of my childhood at Nana and Mick’s house. In the mornings, Mick would make me ham and cheese omelets and per my request would serve me a cup of coffee that was most likely equal parts coffee and sugar. We would sit at the kitchen table together, Mick reading the paper while I read the comics.
Mick was the first person who attempted teaching me how to drive. We would take his Lincoln Town Car down the street to the church parking lot, and Mick would ride patiently for hours as I pulled in and out of parking spots and endlessly circled the lot (including one near-miss with a UPS truck).
There are endless memories of Sunday lunches, Christmas Eves and Easter egg hunts. I spent many New Year’s Eves watching my grandparents slow dance in their living room as we waited up to see the ball to drop in Times Square.
As his grandchildren, we all playfully bickered about which one of us was Mick’s favorite. But there was no question that he was all of our favorite. It has been nearly overwhelming to experience the great joy of new life simultaneously with the grief that comes with losing someone so dear. But I knew my grandfather well, and I know it would be his wish that my joy not be swallowed up by grief.
When I look at my son, I cannot help but think of Big Mick. I think of the man I hope my son will one day become and the legacy my grandfather left for him and for us all. There are certainly not enough words to summarize his character, but I think these are the values Mick would want me to remember and harvest in the lives of my children. None of these ideals were ever spoken or instructed to any of us, but rather lived out over a lifetime.
Have more good to say than bad. In celebrating Mick’s life, my brother Chris reflected on how he had rarely, if ever, heard Mick speak ill of another person. I hadn’t thought much about that prior to Chris mentioning it, but agree that there are few traits as honorable as a tamed tongue.
To speak in fact rather than opinion or emotion. You knew where Mick stood because of who he was, not because he lectured and scorned and judged.
Find value in hard work. Following his service with the U.S. Coast Guard, Mick returned to Shreveport to partner with his brothers in the construction business. His work with Netherton Company spanned 50 years in the area, including the construction of some of our area’s largest thoroughfares and interstate system.
Keep family first. Mick never missed a graduation, a basketball game, a golf tournament or any opportunity to spend time with us or cheer us on. As we visited with close friends and family at the funeral home the evening before Mick’s funeral, I was approached by one of my grandparents’ long-time neighbors. She hugged me and told me that so many times when she would see my grandfather he would tell her about the articles I had written and how proud he was of me. No matter our accomplishments or failures, Mick was always the first in line to celebrate or to spur us on to try again.
Relish the good times. Perhaps I am a writer today because I was raised in the midst of a remarkable storyteller. Mick always enjoyed laughing and reminiscing, sharing stories and memories. He relished in the good times and never stopped looking forward to the next story to come.
Have a faith that lives. He didn’t preach, but his faith was evident. Growing up, I spent most Sundays sitting on the church pew next to Mick. He would let me eat my way through the roll of cinnamon Certs that he always carried in his coat pocket. He was not only a faithful churchgoer but he was faithful to worship through the way his life was lived each day. He treated others with kindness and fairness. He gave generously, and he loved wholeheartedly.
My grandfather was a man amongst men. Some might argue that the values of his generation are fading out. I hope that isn’t true. I hope to raise up my son with the image of my grandfather in mind. I hope that as his loved ones, we can honorably carry on the legacy left for us and live life as “big” as our Mick.
