i've had the newspaper obituary on my fridge all year; it's yellowed over the last twelve months.
sometimes i wonder if that's a strange thing, to have that scrap of newsprint right there in my kitchen, in the midst of the family calendar, milk tickets, grocery lists and permission slips....
and yet, sometimes his face catches my eye, and my heart catches in my throat and i remember....
who he was,
what he stood for,
Who he followed with all his heart,
how he loved
me.
my grandpa was one of the people in my early childhood that told me i was special, that i was lovable, that i was valuable. my grandpa listened to me and let me sit in his lap. my grandpa encouraged me to use my gifts for the glory of God and the edification of the church. my grandpa was proud of me.
and i love him just the same as i did as a little girl when he would laugh as i sang my silly songs.
i love him just the same as i did when he gave the toast to the bride at our wedding.
i love him just the same as i did when i saw his shell, empty of his precious soul, on the hospital bed one year ago.
and i praise God for the gift of my grandpa.
