Grandpa

It's taken me a couple weeks to actually process that my Grandpa passed away. He died peacefully in his sleep on April 27th, he was 93 1/2 years old. My dad called me the afternoon he died (he passed early in the morning) and because my grandparents' minister was out of town on a retreat that weekend, the funeral/memorial service wouldn't be for 2 weekends. He was creamated, so that time span wasn't an issue. I was sad right away, especially thinking of my grandma, they had been married 63 years and were still very much in love. It was common for them to be holding hands several times a day. They were (are) so cute. Anyway, of course I thought about how sad it is to loose a grandparent and how it's even harder to watch the other grandparent try to cope in a world that is lonely to them. It's not easy. The memorial service was this past Saturday and it's then that it hit me how much he is missed. My aunts and uncles had words to say at the service and it was beautiful, and it's obvious just how much they and my dad will miss their father. I miss my grandpa. He was a man of LONG stories that often I didn't know what the moral was, and he was a man of many interests and talents, he was a veteran, a cherished and very involved member of his church including the choir, and he was an all-around family man. My aunts and uncles and my dad ALL have their father's sense of family and have passed that on to their own children and nieces and nephews. The best part of the service was the end, when the choir stood in front of the congregation and sang Amazing Grace. It was truly amazing. And another neat bit of info....when the organ was being played, the baby kicked HARD (and I mean he really whomped me in both sides!!!!). It actually made me move in my seat...Kenny was next to me and he looked at me and mouthed, "What was that??" and I whispered to him, "That was your son kicking his momma....he isn't used to the organ playing....apparently we need to attend church more." When I heard my grandpa had stopped eating a week or so prior to his death (he wasn't sick with cancer or anything, there were several things keeping him from feeling well and I think he was just ready to go) I immediatly became sad because this would have been his first great-grandchild. I kept thinking, just a few more weeks and he'd be able to hold his first great-grandchild. But I know that wasn't in the cards, my grandma will have that distinct honor all to herself (she is my last grandparent) and there's something magical (in a strange way) about the passage of my grandpa and the birth of my baby so close. When I told my friends that my grandpa had died, most of them remembered him at my wedding just one year ago, in his wheelchair, smiling, having a great time, and not wanting to leave the reception to go lay down even though everyone thought he would be tired. He was SO HAPPY I was getting married and he loved getting dressed up and attending formal ceremonies, especially his oldest grandchild's wedding. So there you have it. That was my grandpa.