He wore “grandfather” sweaters long before he was ever a grandfather, because they were so comfortable on him, large and long, with pockets, and did not button up to the neck. Some people called them “old man golfer sweaters” but he never cared much for what people thought of him, being his own man and all. He neither lived nor cared about others’ opinions of him, just his own.

He had several of those big grandfather sweaters, red and yellow, beige and blue, but his favorite was the green as it was his favorite color, actually. After he retired he lived in those huge sweaters, worn with what his family thought were old fashioned Oxford blue shirts with button-down collars, khaki pants, plain socks and loafers, everything always a size too large because he never could stand to feel confined.

He was a big, comfortable, rangy and easy kind of guy, seriously non-judgmental, a man who refused to ever live with regrets even though he’d had his share. The negative things in his life were dealt with and completely forgotten. His outlook was constantly positive and he was kind and generous, even during those times when he had little with which to be generous. If he owned something, and someone in the family needed it, he gave it. One time one of his sons casually remarked that the man’s favorite easy chair was very comfortable, and the first words out of his mouth were, “take it!” And he meant it.

The man always put his family first. His wife always told him to “stop giving the tender pieces of steak to the family. Take them for yourself for once!” But he never did. His wife and his three sons came first and he loved them all unconditionally. Did he make mistakes? Of course. He was a human being and not a fictional character. But he tried to not repeat mistakes. He was extremely well-read and very smart, having worked his way through Lafayette College by waiting on tables. He luckily met his future wife there at a fraternity party when they were both 19.

He joined ROTC and after graduating, eloped with her, the love of his life then and until the end. They both went to Landstuhl, Germany, for three years where he worked in the Medical Service Corps in a blood bank, because when the US army came for him after college, he told them he’d serve but would not shoot people. They respected his wishes and he gave them three years in return, and when it was time for him to come home, because he was respected, dependable and well-liked, they did everything they could to convince him to stay in the service. He and his
beloved wife had their first 2 sons there and the third in New Jersey.

They moved to Maine in 1974 and while they wondered every March why they’d actually done that, they frequently congratulated themselves for “ending up” in such a fabulous American state. Their sons grew up to be productive, good men who married and presented the man and his loving wife with six terrific grandchildren, all who loved him dearly, in his now official grandfather sweaters.

The big man wearing the usually green sweater was his family’s rock, and he lived an unremarkable life filled with unremarkable pleasures; good books, football games, poetry, The New Yorker magazines from the library, stacks of books from the library, cross word puzzles, gardening, growing raspberries and asparagus, keeping the property neat,
driving his cars until they were quite old, driving to see the fall leaves, taking everyone on vacation in the mountains and forests, playing board games with the kids, and having a few close friends in for the dinners he loved to cook.

In fact, he always loved to cook and was good at it and his breads were in such demand that when they were invited to places for dinner, he was advised that he could not come without one of his loaves of knead-free bread which they all devoured like wolves. When his sons moved out after college they used to write home about “Dad’s fabulous home cooked meals.” Never Mom’s. They knew better. She did the shopping and never minded cleaning-up, but the fabulous and varied meals were always from him.

The big kind man in the green sweater enjoyed his unremarkable life, living in a not very large house with all the things he and his beloved family needed, and they were happy, and he made sure they all had a good, safe and solid life, and while he knew he could not be all things to all of them all the time, he never gave up trying. His family was the
center of his universe and his long marriage of 65 years was happy and there was lots of love and fun and laughter along the way. Her love for him was over-flowing and still is. Her tears are endless.

After he left them, because he had to go, she lay that old worn green grandfather sweater on her side of their big bed and she still sleeps with it, her arms around it, every night of her life. She never washes it, knowing his DNA was still in that big, comfortable green sweater.

Two years ago when he left his loving family forever, he looked up at his sons and grinned, looked at her, smiled and said “you are so cute!” and then he just quite simply stopped living. She had been told by a well-meaning friend that in time she’d “get used to it.” She is still waiting for that to happen. She knows it won’t.

LC Van Savage is a Brunswick writer.