John "Jack" Warren Flynn: March 3, 1926 - March 2, 2008

Yesterday afternoon, my grandfather went home to be with the Lord. I had written the first half of the below page many months ago, in hopes that my uncle (who is writing a book about my grandfather) would allow there to be a chapter where family could write something about him.

I wrote the last part just a few minutes ago...

I miss you Papa.

Though I do not carry the name of Flynn, I have the same “mutated” genes as my grandfather. On an early morning bike ride through town one day, I was pulled over by a cop who wanted to know the reason why I wasn’t in school. I started explaining that I was home schooled when he stopped me and asked, “Are you a Flynn”? I told him that my mother was a Flynn, in which he responded by saying, “I thought so, you look just like your grandfather.”

When we were younger, we would all sit around in a half circle, waiting for papa (as we called him) to pop out his false teeth. When he did, we would run screaming out of the room, only to enter timidly a few seconds later, wanting him to do it again.

I remember one time, while I was helping him down the stairs, my grandmother stood at the bottom and called up, “Jack, hold onto the railing! You twit.” In which he responded in his usual manner, “Thanks Marilyn, I wouldn’t want to trip and fall on you…I might hurt myself.”

For those of us who were used to those comments, we knew he really was letting us know how much he loved us. Strange way to say it, I know, but in some ways it means more to me that way. Things like:

“Hey! Knock it off!” One of the more popular sayings of my grandfather, in which all of the grandkids have, at one time or another tried to imitate.

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

“Whaddya got, a broken leg?”

“Shut the door, you’re letting out the cold!”

“Come again when you can’t stay so long.”

And the less than tasteful, “For a fat broad, you don’t smell bad.”

There are some things money can’t buy. Among those things are the memories, fellowship, sidesplitting laugher, and love that one experiences by knowing Jack Flynn.

I love my grandfather, and I thank God that he put me in a family with such a heritage to pass on to future generations. If I can be half the grandfather he is to me, I will die a happy man.

March 3, one day after Papa passed on to go home.

I left work early today, I felt pretty good this morning so I thought I could make it through the day. After a few hours, everything came undone. I couldn’t concentrate, made parfaits upside down and forgot how to top pizzas. I went into my boss’s office and broke down, I just couldn‘t do ANYTHING.

Walking home a few minutes later I had time to think. I’m glad the wind was icy cold, that way no one driving by would be able to tell the difference between my eyes watering and the tears running down my face. I thought about a lot of things during those cold 20 minutes. Mostly about how blessed I was to have known Papa like I did.

I walked by a house where last summer, I was at a yard sale. I was helping a woman carry her things to her car. After placing them in the trunk, she turned to me and asked me if I was a Flynn. I answered that I was and asked how she knew. She put her hand on my arm and said: “You look just like your grandfather.”

No other compliment could make me feel more proud. There is no one I would rather physically resemble. When I get to heaven I wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus looked me in the eye, placed his arm around me, and whispered:

”You look just like your grandfather”

Papa, I know you’re watching from up there. I want you to know that I love you, and I look forward to the day when I see you again waiting for me just inside those pearly gates. You’ll walk up to me, lightly punch me in the gut and say: “Like a rock”.