In Loving Memory of
Robert Charles Hopkins
March 28, 1925 - May 7, 2020
From Brian Hopkins (May 7, 2021):
Remembering my beloved grandfather Bob Hopkins, Sr. (affectionately known as “Pop”), ז”ל, who, one year ago today, after a gradual three-year decline from diabetes, congestive heart failure, and prostate cancer, passed away peacefully in his sleep early in the morning last May 7, having “breathed his last, dying at a good ripe old age, elderly and satisfied with life; and he was then gathered to his kin“ (Genesis 25:8). Pop then slipped from this present world and went to his resting place in Paradise where he now stands awestruck in the presence of boundless light while peacefully awaiting the resurrection of the righteous.
On the night of Pop’s passing, there was a beautiful gold moon setting over his birthplace in Roswell, Idaho, which reminded me of the song “When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again” that he often used to sing. He couldn’t have picked a better, more tranquil night to go. It also reminded me of the time four years ago when he snuck out of the Parma Living Center in his wheelchair to the Senior Citizens Center across the street where he ate a bowl of ice cream before the orderlies finally came to apprehend him. This time after enduring months of the COVID-19 lockdown, when the hospice nurse was briefly away from his bedside, Pop made his final escape to heavenly freedom.
Although Pop slowed down significantly over the last three years, despite the challenges of his age and many physical ailments, he proved to the world yet again that he was still an old wild horse-running cowboy at heart, and he continued to astound and amuse us all. Considering all that he had been through in that time, he did amazingly—even miraculously—very well, and to the very end he still did what he liked best: having a good time.
Just like Job, Pop “saw his children and grandchildren to the fourth generation. He died an old man and full of days, and he will rise again with those whom the Lord raises up” (Job 42:16–17). He lived a good, long, and full life, and since his prostate cancer medicine had just started to fail him, we’re so grateful that he passed away peacefully in his sleep without suffering. In his rich, long 95 years of life, Pop left an indelible mark in this world by making it a better place through all his extraordinary acts of kindness and generosity to others. He always greeted everyone with a smile and a wave and usually shared a story or a joke (sometimes a dirty one), and he was always glad to know you—and if he didn’t know you, he wanted to know you. Many times I saw Pop give whatever he had at the time to help someone in need—and without hesitation or expectation to be recompensed.
I will always remember Pop for the many ways in which he consistently demonstrated his love for me and the other Hopkins grandkids and made us all feel so special. Undoubtedly, we were his greatest legacy. I always enjoyed listening to him tell me about people and places from simpler times long ago. I have so many fond memories of great times spent with him and funny anecdotes that he told me through the years that will remain with me forever. Most importantly, I’ve learned many good lessons about character integrity and life in general from his splendid example, especially the virtues of helping someone in need, being a good neighbor, and the precious value of family. As a result, I’ve come to cherish my family and relationships with people because Pop taught me that these are the things in life that matter most and truly last forever.
Pop was the absolutely best grandpa you could ever imagine. Over the years he took all of us grandkids on all kinds of “vacations” (as we called them), family outings, and other fun roadtrips in his station wagon (aka “the meat wagon” as we called it) and Motorhome to such exciting places as Pojo’s Electronic Amusements, the Nampa and Boise Hydrotubes, Givens Hot Springs, Idaho City, and Lowman, Idaho. Some of us also went on other kinds of adventures with Pop to places like Tijuana, Mexico and southern Arizona that were not quite as fun, but still memorable in their own unique ways. (Our guardian angels must have been watching out for us on some of those trips.) We definitely had our share of adventures, good times, and fun memories together, and we’ll always have plenty of entertaining stories to share. You're the best, Pop, and certainly a classic. We miss you and love you always. May his memory always be for a blessing.