This being General Conference weekend means that it has been six months since Grandpa died. We had his funeral the weekend of the last General Conference. I've been thinking a lot about Grandpa this whole week. I still miss him like crazy. Going up north just isn't the same without a quick visit to see him and Grandma. Part of me can't believe how long it has been, while the other part thinks that it was just last week that I got to go and say my goodbye.
While I was with him that last week, I had the hardest time understanding why he had to go. And during his funeral I was amazed at how mad I was at him for leaving. I had plans that involved him that can't happen any more and it hurts. I was going to make my husband (whoever he may be) visit Grandma and Grandpa to see how they treated each other, especially how Grandpa treated Grandma. And let him know that that was how I expect us to be when we're old and senile (not that I'm calling Grandma senile...Grandpa, yes. He did have Alzheimer's you know :) ). And that's just one of my plans...I tend to plan a lot.... My plans aside, I couldn't figure out why I was so mad during his funeral. Until I read one of my books that I got for Christmas. In it the main character talks about the anger you feel when a loved one dies: "It is a senseless rage burning inside you, first against the person you loved for leaving you alone, and then against the fates that took them away." When I read that, I flashed back to Grandpa's funeral and I realized that that was why I was mad. Grandpa left and there was nothing I could do but sit there and deal with it. Luckily the past six months have helped my anger to lessen and I have learned many lessons from this whole experience.
I didn't realize how much I loved him till they closed the casket for the final time and it became real that he was really gone. Poor Dad had to see me at that point, when I literally broke down and sobbed. I think that was the first time I've ever seen Dad that close to crying. Followed closely by the second time 20 minutes later when Dad had to give his talk.
Whenever I think of Grandpa I can't help but feel that he's right there next to me, listening in on my rambling memories of him and laughing with me. That is the greatest comfort and blessing to me. To feel as though he's here looking out for me. Because that means that he knows who I am and loves me. I don't have many memories of Grandpa from when he knew who I was, before the Alzheimer's. I can't tell you the comfort it is to know that because of the atoning sacrifice of Christ my grandfather can once again know me. That when I see him again he'll come running over to give me a huge hug and let me know that the only reason he forgot me was because of his mortal body's weakness. That his spirit never once forgot. And that is the greatest comfort of all.
My two favorite pictures of Grandpa:
Grandpa and Shelly 2006
Me and Grandpa September 2008
1 comment:
Oh, Katie. That was a beautiful post in tribute to your grandpa. I remember meeting your Gardner grandparents a few times when I was little. I never really knew them, but they seemed like such nice people. I love to hear people talk (or, erm... read what they write, in this case) about the people that they love. I know that your grandpa is close to you - and as long as you hold those memories of him dear, he always will be. I love the pics. Thanks for sharing your thoughts & feelings about him with us.
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