Tomorrow, March 1, 2013, we lay to rest my grandfather. Franklin Hancock. I really don't know what to say other than I've lost a great role model in my life.
How can I say that? I grew up 1600 miles away from this man. However, I feel I can say this because every chance I got to see this man, he was always great. I don't remember seeing him until I was 11. I got to fly out to Arizona on my 11th birthday. I spent some time with my dad, then got to spend about a week with Grandpa Frank and Grandma Molly. I won't even begin to try and calculate what age he was at that point, but I know he was on up there. And he was still working. The man always worked. Why, because he wanted to. That's what a man does. But this man was different. No matter how busy he was, no matter how many projects he had going, he always made time for me when I was out here. He always made time for everyone. I don't know that I ever saw him mad. I don't know that I ever heard him raise his voice. He was a man that commanded respect, simply because he was. If ever a man to grace this Earth with positive thoughts, love, joy, happiness, his name was Frank Hancock.
Even when it was a serious time, he was smiling, and he'd make others smile and laugh. He was always up to something crazy, just to see people smile. You couldn't dislike this man. Grandpa Frank was the type of person that would give you the shirt off his back. I know you hear this a lot, but he was also the type that would make sure you had shoes and a decent pair of pants and even something to eat right along with that shirt.
He could fix anything. Even in his later years in life he was always wiring up something, fixing a car, building a house or a workshop, etc. In the few times I got to see him, I don't think he ever slowed down. I remember coming out in 2009, with my wife and 2 kids, hauling a camper with the Suburban. We broke down in Pecos, Texas with a blown waterpump. Spent a few days in Pecos and came in to Safford where we parked at Grandpa's. The Suburban still wasn't working right, so Grandpa checks it out and discovers a messed up water hose, and a few other minor things not working properly. Without missing a beat he tells me to hop in the car and we go in to town. Now, Safford Arizona isn't a huge town, but it's no longer a small town, definitely not as small as I remember from my earlier visits. EVERY SINGLE PLACE we went, everyone knew Grandpa. Calling him Mr. Frank, or Mr. Hancock as he walked in the door. I was simply amazed at the respect these people had for him! We finally find a place that has the right hose....kind of. Instead of it being the exact part, he spies a roll of hose on the wall off to the side. Tells the guy "I need about 9 inches of that 1 1/4 inch hose, how much is it?" They worked out the the details and we came home and it was exactly what was needed, to the centimeter. The tricky part, I don't recall Grandpa ever pulling any kind of measuring device to get what he needed. That may be old hat for some, but to me, that simply amazed me.
Grandpa Frank, as I said before was a very kind man. He never met a stranger. A good portion my family, my wife isn't overly fond of and is only social with them because of me. She instantly loved my grandpa. Same as both my kids. For my son that's not hard to do. For my daughter, well, that's another story. I only regret that my kids couldn't spend more time with such a great man, and that they didn't get to see him one last time before he passed away. I only hope I can scrounge some pictures to save his memories.
Grandpa was a deeply religious man, but not an overbearing religious man. He'd talk with anyone about religion, not at you. He was happy to share the Mormon ways and beliefs, but it was never in a way you felt like it being thrown on you. He spent many years doing for the Mormon church and to my knowledge never had any problems with the church or felt like he was being used or abused. He will be buried in Mormon dress clothes.
Frank Hancock, as you've read here, was a man of many things. He loved the outdoors, he loved fun things, he loved to work. He was a very physical man with his hands. As he aged, he looked like he was as mean as a bear and had a slight growl to his voice. But never a kinder, more gentler man would you meet. He's a man I aspire to be like. If I can only be 1 1/10th of the man he was, I will know I have accomplished something. We lost a very great man this week...I hope those who knew him have as great a collection of memories as I do, or even better.
Franklin Hancock. Husband. Father. Grandfather. Great-grandfather. Mentor. Teacher. Hard worker. Devout Mormon. A person to love and to be loved by. Respected and respectful. I pray I can live in your legacy. Rest in Peace Grandpa. I hope you get your finger back...
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