Life is never what we expect and not often what we hope. The things that bring us the most sadness can also bring us joy. Conflicting emotions fill and confuse us as they battle for the upper-hand in our minds.
Poppop, I know that you're with Jesus now--that your body is once again whole and healthy, and I rejoice at the thought that you are now happier than you have ever been because you are praising our Lord in the full glory of His presence. Peace fills a part of me as I realize that you are out of your pain, that you are no longer suffering, and that you have finally crossed the river to the Celestial City.
None of this changes the fact that you will be missed more than I ever thought possible. You were always there, and I guess a little part of me thought that you always would be. The pain that has permeated my heart reminds me that you will never meet my daughter in this life--and it hurts even more because she was so close to meeting the man for whom I have the deepest respect and love. A part of me had hoped that God would not have brought you this far only to take you now, but His timing is best even when it cuts to the heart.
Every Christmas, you and I made pizzelles together, and I will continue to make them with my children. I'll tell them how you and I always snuck in more anise because we loved it so much, how you liked the cookies dark and burned while I liked them white and crunchy, how you always made me sift the flour through your decrepit old sifter, how we sometimes stirred with your non-electric hand mixer and with duct taped spatulas, and how much fun we had spending the day together. It was my favorite Christmas tradition merely because it was with you.
You were the best husband, the best father, and the best grandfather. The example that you set for all of us will live on--your love, faithfulness, devotion, caring, dedication, and honesty helped to shape and form so many lives.
Although it feels like goodbye, I remember your last words to me. I'll see you soon, Poppop. I'll see you soon.
Poppop, I know that you're with Jesus now--that your body is once again whole and healthy, and I rejoice at the thought that you are now happier than you have ever been because you are praising our Lord in the full glory of His presence. Peace fills a part of me as I realize that you are out of your pain, that you are no longer suffering, and that you have finally crossed the river to the Celestial City.
None of this changes the fact that you will be missed more than I ever thought possible. You were always there, and I guess a little part of me thought that you always would be. The pain that has permeated my heart reminds me that you will never meet my daughter in this life--and it hurts even more because she was so close to meeting the man for whom I have the deepest respect and love. A part of me had hoped that God would not have brought you this far only to take you now, but His timing is best even when it cuts to the heart.
Every Christmas, you and I made pizzelles together, and I will continue to make them with my children. I'll tell them how you and I always snuck in more anise because we loved it so much, how you liked the cookies dark and burned while I liked them white and crunchy, how you always made me sift the flour through your decrepit old sifter, how we sometimes stirred with your non-electric hand mixer and with duct taped spatulas, and how much fun we had spending the day together. It was my favorite Christmas tradition merely because it was with you.
You were the best husband, the best father, and the best grandfather. The example that you set for all of us will live on--your love, faithfulness, devotion, caring, dedication, and honesty helped to shape and form so many lives.
Although it feels like goodbye, I remember your last words to me. I'll see you soon, Poppop. I'll see you soon.
2 comments:
God be with you, Erin.
Thank you for sharing your heart. Your description of your deep love for your grandfather is like a healing balm to my soul. God bless you and keep writing.
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