I wanted to say I’m thankful that I got to know you.

I don’t know if I have ever heard anyone say a negative thing about you. You were a man of few words, but you always had a smile for whoever came along, and your handshake and “Howdy!” let us know that you were happy to see us.

I’m thankful for the memories I have of you, from my childhood. You were a big, important part of our lives. I remember you being always ready to lend a hand when there was work to be done.

I think you and Grandmother must have been the spryest grandparents ever. Hiking up Mole Hill with us as kids, playing ball with us at the annual sleepover you always had for your grandchildren. Those memories will always be precious.

I know it was hard for you both when you were no longer able to get around so well anymore. You didn’t know I overheard your conversation, the day you and Grandmother agreed to keep your bruised tailbone a secret, to ensure that your fishing privileges wouldn’t get taken away. But I did hear it. I still laugh about that. You both had more spunk than what was good for you at times.

I remember you singing with Grandmother, your two voices blending together, and I’m thankful for the legacy of song that you handed down to us.

When I sing “Blest Be the Tie That Binds,” I think of you holding her hand, as she lay in her hospital bed, surrounded by family. Then, five years later, we sang it at your bedside, and in just a few minutes, you slipped away to finally be free of your earthly body. What a precious way to go. I’m so thankful we got to spend your last moments with you.

I also wanted to say I’m going to miss you.

I won’t ever get the chance to come and stay with you, and care for you again. I’m so grateful we were able to do that for you. I wasn’t able to be there as much as some of your grandchildren, but I’m thankful for the opportunities we all were given.

I know you were old, and you wanted to go, and I would never want to bring you back. But now that you’re gone, I think I might miss the ice cream parties we would sometimes hold at night. I just wanted to go to bed; but you wanted ice cream, so we would sit and look at the same books as the last three times I’d been there, and eat ice cream. Funny, I didn’t feel like I would miss that at the time. 🙂

I’ll miss your sense of humor. But I’m glad you no longer have to joke that you’re “older than all the dead people in the obituaries today.”

I’m thankful that my older children will have memories of spending time with their Great Granddaddy. What a blessing.

I’ll miss you, but I’m thankful that you no longer have to sit in your chair and grieve for Grandmother.

I’m thankful that you will never again fall and hurt your head. No more surgeries. No more confusion, no more filling up with fluid and feeling miserable.

No more pleading with God to set you free from this old world. No more goodbyes.

I’m thankful. But I’m going to miss you.