It’s funny the things you remember. I strive, with much difficulty, to remember which roads I have to turn on in the city I have spent my entire life.
But I remember him.
I remember the sound of his voice. I remember how he laughed. He laughed a lot. As a matter of fact the last memory I hold of him is his laughter. It’s not the incessant drone of the beeping heart monitor. It’s not the sterile, cold smell of the hospital room or the needles in his arm feeding his ailing body.
It’s the picture of his smile and the sound of his laughter as we are all gathered around him joking and listening to Alex making fun of Aunt DD as he so often does.
For someone who possessed such a collection of sordid childhood memories, he was a man who chose to experience life with joy.
We have always been a close family and we have always been full of such life, with personalities that are strong as they are diverse.
And we loved him dearly.
I remember fondly the little things. He loved spending time with all of us.
He used to take is teeth out in front of us out of the sheer joy and pleasure he received from seeing his grandkids squeal, giggle, and then ask him to do it again!
He built things with the boys. He watched with excitement the fashion shows and the talents shows in which we used jokes that we actually got from him. He came to hear me sing. He came to see Alex’s soccer games. He helped us paint the house and he helped us stain the woodwork.
And the year that he died he had hiked through the Rocky Mountains with us.
Even in the memories where he was not directly involved I still remember him there. He was always there.
He always kept Werther’s Caramels in his pockets and on his dresser. He always drank his coffee out of the same brown mug. He made off color jokes and then would laugh and cover his mouth.
He loved his girls and he loved his grandkids.
And I miss him.
He lived this life to the fullest but life does not end on this earth and I anticipate the day when I will be in fellowship with him again.
And I look forward to the day when I hear his laugh again in the fullness of the joy of the Lord that can only be experienced on the other side of life.