Goodbye, Granddaddy

On Monday night I received a call at 10 pm that my paternal grandfather, Richard Loehle, had passed away. He was 87 years old and was a successful artist and writer from Georgia. My home is full of his paintings and those of my grandmother Betty. They met in art school in the 1940s in Tennessee, lived in Chicago and Georgia, and supported their family of 4 children through their art.

I was about 1 month old in this photo with my grandparents. Since I was the first grandchild, I received a lot of attention from them.

When I was little, we lived 3 hours away, so I had many opportunities to spend time with them. In this photo, I am with my grandfather in the family room of their home.

Granddaddy taught me how to build things, and he loved explaining how things worked. I remember when he and my dad built a swingset for us in our backyard, taking walks in the forest behind their house, and catching turtles and crawfish in the creek.

Granddaddy was a tough man who lived through the Depression and World War 2, a descendant of German immigrants. He played the trombone in high school, which I then played for a year because I wanted to play the same instrument. We would get into lively discussions about all sorts of topics, from art to books to religion.

Rest in peace, Granddaddy.

(all photos taken by my mother, Neda)