Thurman Lee Isaacs

My Papa

He loved his family… and Chevrolets. It always had to be a Chevrolet. 39 years he sold them. Top salesman awards. How he did that year after year in a town of less than 2000 people is beyond me. People knew him, they trusted him, and with good reason. Yep, he loved Chevrolets. Never seen him drive anything else. He had a passion for them; for them, and for his family.

He loved his family. I remember as a girl going into his office and climbing in his lap and feeling like I just belonged there. The little office was practically wallpapered in little notes and scribbles that Jamie and I had made for him. They would hang there until the sun faded the ink to nothing, then we would promptly replace them.

He loved his family. I remember him telling us stories about him growing up and riding bareback on his horse Thunder, and having corn cob fights with his brothers, and trapping animals in the woods around his childhood home. I remember laughing so hard over the story of him trapping a skunk and getting sprayed right before school and the teacher wondering who was stinking up the classroom, and he just played dumb. Those were our bedtime stories, but they usually made us giggle so much that Nanny would come in and all three of us would be in trouble.

He loved his family. I’ve never doubted it. I’ve never questioned it. Still, in his eighties, he would get down on the floor and play with my babies. He listened when we talked, and cared about what we had to say. When we were sad, he was sad. When we were angry at some injustice, he was angry. When we were rejoicing, he was rejoicing.

He loved his family. I would go see him about once a week. Every time he would say “I was wondering when you were gonna come see me. It seems like it’s been forever.” And he would mean it, because he would rather be with his family than anywhere else. And he really liked to go, so that’s saying a lot!

He loved his family. He would tell the story of the day I was born. That he had to pull over on the side of the road and cry because he was so overjoyed. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him say “God looked all over Heaven for the best family He could find, and then he gave them to me.” Well I say, God looked all over Heaven for the best Papa that he could find, and then He gave him to me!

He loved his family. He and Nanny took me to church and Sunday school. Their house was my second home. And I can guarantee you that there was not a day that he did not pray for his family. And not just one of those rote memory prayers, but the kind of prayers that you call out each person’s name individually. I wonder how often those prayers have kept me from harm or helped me in a bad situation. I could count on him. I Love Him.

He loved his family. Today we grieve because of our great loss. Today we rejoice because of his great gain.