On January 26th in the wee hours of the morning, I lost my dear, dear Papa. I suppose it's silly to say I lost him when I know exactly where he is. I have found comfort knowing that my sweet Great Grandma Anne was there waiting for him when he went to be with the Lord, because she said she would be. That's exactly what it feels like, though. Loss. He was so incredibly special to me, and my heart aches every time I remember that he's not just a phone call away anymore. Some mornings I wake up, and just for a second I forget that he's gone, and the realization washes over me all over again.
I have so much comfort in the memories I have of him, though. My parents and I lived with my Papa and Nana when I was very little, and almost the whole time I was growing up, they never lived more than a couple of minutes away. He worked at my elementary school, and I used to love going to his office to sneak jelly beans from the glass jar on his desk, always being careful to save the black ones for him since they were his favorite. I'll never forget the look on my Papa's face when I came down the stairs in my dress and veil on my wedding day.
He taught me so much about kindness. It made my heart so happy to hear so many people at his memorial service talk about how kind he was. He was so gentle and patient, but he was also such a strong man of God, and so firm in his convictions. I loved seeing him with my Nana - their love for each other was so clear and strong, and the way they cared for and prayed with each other is something I hope I can do half as well with Kevin.
I will always be so thankful for the blessing of being his granddaughter for 27 years, and I hope that many years from now when my time in this world comes to an end, he's there waiting for me, just like his mother was there waiting for him.
I love you, Papa.
