grandpa great

We met our family for the viewing on Sunday evening. Despite his body having suffered much in the last few months and especially in his last few hours, he looked really good. He looked strong and at peace. The floral arrangements were beautiful, especially the spray atop the casket. It was made up mostly of pine boughs and decorated with items that symbolized my grandfather's life. There was a figuring of a horse (that looked like Knothead, the horse he had during my childhood), his stetson-style hat, antlers, two tiny stuffed animal dogs, and an American flag. Also on display in the room were things such as his scriptures, his branding iron, a dutch oven, a wooden semi truck and trailer, his 50th wedding anniversary portrait and family portraits of each of his four children and their families. Against the far wall played a slideshow of pictures from his life. One of my favorites was of my grandpa with his arms wrapped tight around my grandma, laughing as blissfully happy newlyweds. Another was of me, perhaps five years old, sitting atop his shoulders. Another of me and my cousintwin, each leaning on his shoulders. And one picture, taken only a year ago, of my strong, tall, tough grandpa, holding a delicate purple tea cup as he played tea party with my little girl.

The funeral was held on Monday morning, with clear blue skies and 60 degree weather. As grandchildren, we each shared a memory of grandpa, despite my hoarse voice. I had lost my voice completely but thanks to some tips from my aunt, a phenomenal and professional singer, I recovered enough to sing a duet with my cousin (my girls stood up on the bench to watch me, grinning and bouncing wildly). The talks were beautiful and my mom's musical number was exceptional. My dad was the keynote speaker, his voice comforting and full of both strength and emotion as he talked about grandpa and about the gospel. The chapel was full, with many family and friends in attendance.

At the close of the meeting, my husband was one of the pallbearers that carried grandpa outside where the procession would begin. The procession itself was rather unconventional but so fitting for my grandpa whose greatest hobby was riding atv four wheelers. He was know both by family and throughout the community for taking family and friends on rides through the mountains and deserts to show them God's greatest work. So for the procession, the pallbearers set the casket upon a trailer which was then towed by my cousin on grandpa's atv and escorted by the other pallbearers as well as nearly 50 close friends, all upon their own atvs. My husband told me later that it was an incredible experience.

As I followed the line of atvs, I began to cry, feeling the loss of grandpa and the poignancy of "taking on last ride". From her carseat, my daughter asked, "mommy hurt?" I answered "no baby, mommy's not hurt. I'm just sad." again, "mommy hurt?" "no honey, just sad." A pause, "mommy tummy hurt?" "no honey, mommy is sad. Mommy's heart hurts." As we got out of the car and I went to take her hand, she stopped me, put her hand on my heart and said "mommy heart sad. It's okay mommy." And then I cried some more as my little girl hugged me tight.

My dad dedicated the grave, followed by a majestic and powerful 21 gun salute and the presentation of the flag. My sibling and I each put a rose upon the casket with our final goodbyes and after a short time, went home.

I'm grateful for God's love, the knowledge that we will be together again someday, for the memories of my grandpa, for the hugs of a little girl and for the support of my wonderful husband. In his passing, I know grandpa was released from the physical ailments of this life and he is reunited with other loved ones already passed. but my "heart is sad" still and I miss him. By my next post, I'll perk back up.

P.S. my voice is gone again.

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