Greeson: How do you write an obituary for your hero?

I make my living with words. Words written here in the Times Free Press in the morning, or words spoken on the radio in the afternoon.

So people asking me to "read this" or "write that" is nothing new, just part of my routine.

Then, on Wednesday morning, my father asked me to write his obituary. He is 76.

The brain cancer that claimed my mother less than 20 months ago has circled back on Pop like a brazen thief.

Jay Greeson

Death will come for us all, and we know it. Still, until it knocks at the door of the people you love, you don't feel its full weight.

So there was Pop on Wednesday morning, asking me to help him craft his life story into an obituary, which is what I will now try to do.

For those of you who don't know him, but especially for those who do, please read this:

Jerry Lee Greeson was my dad, but he was also "Pop" to everyone in his path. He was "Pop" at church, "Pop" at the ballpark, "Pop" at the bank. When the ladies at his local bank branch heard about his cancer diagnosis last month, there was not a dry eye in the room. At every downtown lunch joint we frequented through the years - from Wally's to the old Porkers to Southern Star - he was not Mr. Greeson but plain old "Pop."

He was consistent to a fault. He was tough and self-educated. He built the house I grew up in, and before having brain surgery March 15, a day that would have been my parents' 49th wedding anniversary, he was still doing odd jobs for his friends.

The week before his brain tumor was diagnosed, and just 10 days before we knew it was malignant, he was playing baseball with his grandkids. He was telling Madeline Ray how to hit and showing Lee - Jerry Lee Greeson III, you should know - how to throw harder.

But cancer is unapologetic. And it is merciless. And it has come for Pop.

I had hoped to write this for Father's Day, but the curtain is closing quickly, and I want - need - his eyes to see this.

I'll skip all the customary "survived by" details and the part where he wanted donations to his church rather than flowers.

I'll spare you his rich and impressive professional career. Suffice it to say there are cards and letters from people around the South whom Pop has influenced or mentored. The outpouring of support makes me want to be a better man.

And that's Pop in a nutshell. He is an example to people - a breathing embodiment of a life well-lived. He is proof that we lead best by "showing," not "telling."

He reminded me all of my life to work hard, even during those crazy stretches when all I really wanted to do was play hard.

At every step in my life I have watched him - and learned.

He is my hero.

Pop, I know this is not exactly what you had in mind. Yes, I make my living with words, but today I am at a complete loss. I can barely move the keys on my computer.

In fact, the only words I can push past the lump in my throat right now are these: Pop, I love you.

And when you get to Heaven, please tell Mom I love her, too.

Contact Jay Greeson at jgreeson@timesfreepress.com and 423-757-6343.