Hello,
I am Hannah, Rhonda’s daughter and Bob’s granddaughter.
Although once in a while Grandpa would mix us up and called
me Honda. He always did love cars.
Grandpa had the brightest blue eyes and wit to match. He was
an upstanding man. Punctual, exact, cautious yet confident— he seemed to be at
ease in any situation. This is not to say he was perfect. He did have a temper,
though his grandson John seemed to witness it more than the rest of us. He also
loved to talk. A lot. But he knew so much, no wonder it was difficult to stop
when he got started. I was older when I learned the term “Dutch bingo”, but I
had witnessed Grandpa and Uncle Marlowe in action enough to know no one else
was as much a champion at connecting dots.
He had a soft side. He grew roses. I think one of the most
heartbreaking moments of my life was watching him break down in tears while
praying shortly after my dad and sister had died. It was hard watching adults
cry, but it was hardest watching Grandpa—a man who seemed so collected at all
times—be overwhelmed by grief.
I talked to a dentist last night whose practice has burned
to the ground a few years ago. “How’s it going?” I asked. “Well, I’ve had no
bad days since then”, he said.
Today is a good day. Grandpa lived a full life. I am
grateful for Grandpa’s diligence. His faithfulness to his faith, to his family
and to his community was quiet yet steadfast. He adored my grandmother and I
hope to have a marriage like theirs in the future.
Grandpa Pranger is not gone. He lives on. I see him in my
mom’s dedication—to everything. Between Grandpa and my mom, the apple did not
fall but was practically grafted onto the tree. I see him in my own
stubbornness. And I see the fruit of his life’s labor in all of you gathered
here. Thank you for coming to remember with us.
