My Grandpa Barton passed this week. It was expected and honestly a little relieving. For the past couple years he's been deteriorating and it was hard to watch and hard for him to experience, I'm sure.
He was such an active man. Excellent skier and tennis player, savvy businessman, devoted father and husband and a tireless servant of God. He served a full time mission in the central US, as a bishop in California, stake president in Chicago, Mission President in New York, New York and Temple President in Chicago. I'm sad he's gone but glad that he's already probably begun to work on the other side.
In his memory I wanted to share an anecdote that doesn't exist in my memory but one that my mom shared with me at his viewing.
My mom married Mark just after my second birthday. Mark's parents were serving as Mission President in New York City at the time. My brother Ryan showed up nine months later and as soon as he was old enough to travel we went out to spend some time with Grandma & Grandpa Barton. (Coincidentally I celebrated my third birthday on the trip and Elders Hunter and Holland were passing through the mission home at the time and thus were at my third birthday party. Elder Hunter remarked how much I looked like my grandmother but no one had the heart to tell him we weren't related by blood).
When it was time to go to church with Grandma and Grandpa my mom pulled out a new, floral, dress that she had not cleared with me before packing and like any good three year old I refused to wear it. (Apparently I was rather picky about my clothes.) Drama ensued. I was crying, which made the baby cry, which made my mom cry...etc. Mark had me pinned while mom tried to put tights on me. Mom said at one point I bloodied my nose from the fierceness of the struggle. (poor young mom dealing with her unruly child from a previous marriage under the roof of her brand new in-laws who happen to be the mission president of the New York, New York mission.)
At one point my grandma poked her head in and said "Heather, if you don't stop this right now you'll have to go to church in your slip!" "Great!" I replied hopping to my feet (I also had a great love of wearing only my underwear publicly. If you've lived with me you know that not much has changed.)
The battle raged on. Finally my grandpa popped his head in. "Heather, would you like to go out to the garden with me to pick a flower?" The room held its breath. "Yes." "Well, get that pretty dress on and come on!" Done deal.
No little girl can resist picking flowers with her grandpa.
