Remembering the life of Pearce Donald Curtis, grandfather extraordinaire

I was born on his birthday. September 29, 1978. He was 48 years old and had already suffered 2 major heart attacks. But for God's grace, I may have never even had the good fortune to meet my Grandpa. For the first 12 years of my life, my grandparents lived in Alabama, where my grandmother, Vernette, is from. Grandpa was from Newfoundland, Canada. What a pair!

I have fond memories of frequent vacations to see them in AL or meet them somewhere in Tennessee or Georgia. Also, they came fairly frequently to visit us in Florida. Grandpa was an excellent letter writer. They always sent cards for birthdays and special occasions, but he also wrote me letters with silly little stories, asking how I was, just saying "I love you." Great letters. I saved a lot of them. He had the most identifiable scrawl. I just took a card down off of the refrigerator from Catelynn's first birthday, and I realized it was the last thing he wrote to me. I suppose the years ahead will be littered with those kinds or realizations. I'm turning 30 this year, but this birthday will carry some added significance because it will be my first one not shared with him. He used to send me pictures in those letters. He would write things on the back to say when and where they were taken. On the back of this one he wrote, "See the big smile on Beth's face. Sep 29, 1987-Our birthday, Michelle." Beth was pouting because she wanted to hold the cake with us, and my mom wouldn't let her.

His two heart attacks left him "disabled." He lived the second half of his years with severely compromised heart function, and doctors told him he would never live to be 60. He was 77 when he died. He said it was because he had "Newfie" blood and grew up eating moose meat. When I was in 8th grade, they moved to FL. Once I started driving, I would go over to their house often. I had many long conversations with him, filled with laughter and stories of his Newfoundland childhood and years in the Canadian Army. He was a warmly affectionate man, and he wasn't afraid to tell you and show you that he loved you. He always kissed me square on the lips, and I never minded it. On this picture he wrote, "Christmas 1997. Some 'old fart' holding the gal he loves." The feelings were mutual.

Here are a few random things to know about him: His name was Pearce, but everyone called him Curt (except his family who called him Pearcy). Speaking of his family, they are awesome. There were 11 children in his family. He didn't have a knee cap (I think it was on the left knee) because he injured it in a HUMVEE accident while he was in the Army. He always sang these ridiculous songs to us, and we swore they were made up, but I don't think they really were. He had an amazing sense of humor. He had an invisible horse name King tied to his fig tree in AL. Wesley's middle name is Curtis after him (and my Grandma). He was really proud of that and liked to call him Curt, which confused Wesley a little bit. :) He loved to dance. I hope they allow that kind of thing in heaven, because I'll bet he can really cut a rug in that new body he's got now.