The Light Despite Death

I loved my grandpa, and know he loved me. I loved every minute I got to spend with him, but when I found out the end was near, I knew I had one thing thing left to do. I needed to talk to my grandpa about my faith, or I would regret never having done so. It was just a conversation we’d never had, so I didn’t know where his heart was. I was so worried that I wouldn’t have the courage or the chance with everyone around, so I prayed, and prayed hard. So finally, I got up the nerve and said a few words and was able to pray with him, not once, but twice. I probably fumbled through all of my words, but I did it and for that I will forever be thankful. 

I said goodbye to my grandpa, and prayed for God’s peace in my heart, that somehow He’d let me know my grandpa was going to be alright. That’s when I saw light. I closed my eyes and was surrounded by darkness. Then, I saw a door opening, letting blinding light spill into the darkness. The light was so bright, I could only make out the silhouette of pair of feet walking through the door before it closed and the light was gone. The vision was fleeting, and I began to doubt again. 

Then, my sister, Skylar, told me she had a vision of my grandmother, up in heaven, anxiously awaiting my grandpa’s arrival. 

And then, my mom told me that she had a vision of my great grandmother, embracing my grandpa as he entered the gates of heaven, with tears streaming down her face because finally all of her children had joined her and finally, her family was reunited again. 

I don’t understand death. It’s one of my biggest fears. But God has been faithful. He’s given me peace. While I don’t know what happens after death, He does, and He has it under control. I loved my grandpa, but God loves him more than I ever could. 

Below are some photos and a letter that I wrote to my grandfather yesterday, shortly after he passed away. I thought I would share it with you, so you could get a glimpse into the man he was and the beautiful relationship that we shared. 

  

Dear Gramps,

Your absence had only just begun to sink in, but already
I miss you. I miss the grease stains on your fingers and the tattered edges of
your white v-neck. I miss the way your unruly hair stuck out on Christmas
morning and your refusal to use anything but Wild Root to tame it. I miss the
tennis shoes that your daughters tried to throw away for years, yet somehow you
managed to salvage. The same ones that are painted white to cover the dirt and
the years of wear. I miss your stubbornness and your ornery spirit. How you
refused to throw anything away and how you got fiery when we tried to do it for
you. 

I miss pouring you a bourbon and squirt and getting
wacked with your cane because it wasn’t strong enough. I miss watching you ask
everyone separately for a beer to keep us from knowing how many you’ve had and
listening to you innocently fudge the amount whenever anyone asked.

I miss watching you do a back flip off my diving board,
and floating in my pool for hours on a couple of noodles. I miss riding ATVs
with you in Mexico and hearing stories of you on the golf course, swinging so
hard you fall and roll off the tee box. I miss the face you make when you
dance, the one with your lips sticking out. The same face my mom makes when she
dances, and the same face I make when I dance.

I miss watching you read your first book, Where The Red
Fern Grows, and watching you pretend not to cry at the ending.

I miss sitting with you while the chickens turn on the
spit that you made with your bare hands and I miss the piece of skin that you
sneakily hand me every time.

I miss the way your face lights up and the joy that
radiates from your soul when family is gathered together. I miss the sparkle in
your eye and the way you quietly watch us as we laugh and simply enjoy each
other’s presence.

I miss you Gramps, but I will always remember what you’ve
taught me. I will always remember to “keep my nose clean” and that hard work
pays off. I will remember how to fix the light in my room and won’t be a
“dumbhead” the next time the switch breaks. I’ll remember that money doesn’t
buy happiness but a good family does. I will always remember your devotion to
us-your family-and all of the values that you’ve passed down.

Gramps, you were just a simple, small town man, but you
touched my life and my heart.

Skylar says that the night before you died, she had a
vision of grandma up in heaven with her arms spread wide, anxiously awaiting
your arrival. I can just picture the two of you now, caught in the sweet
embrace of love, reunited again after years of separation. I know the two of
you are watching over me. I can feel the pride swelling inside of you as you
watch my life unfold before your eyes. So save a place for me, ok? I can’t wait
to see you again.

I love you, Gramps.

Your granddaughter, Stacy.