Dear Grandpa

Dear Grandpa,

On my run this morning, I saw someone who looks a whole lot like how I remember you. Same build, same white t-shirt, full head of white hair, with a fishing hat perched on top.

Mile one, I had to do a double take. Mile two caught me off guard again. And mile three, his stern face grinned at me and said “Mornin’!” with the same gruff tenderness that you would project over the breakfast waffles and bacon whenever I slept over.

I smiled back, and cried the whole bike ride home. I miss you, Grandpa.

I miss you a lot.

I miss going into your shop and “helping” you sweep up shavings. Or how you would give me scraps of wood and let me trim them with the saw, giving the firm instruction that I “just don’t chop them fingers off.” You could make anything you wanted to in there, and lots of times it would be for us- the little stinkers you called your grandkids. Sometimes, I just don’t like seeing the people who rent your shed now, because it’s almost like they’re interrupting a sacred space full of precious memories.

I miss watching you and Grandma together. How you cared for her so well through her hospitalizations. How you faithfully honored your vow of “in sickness and in health” and ultimately, after 48 years, “till death do us part.” How you made sure we respected her. Some of us couldn’t get away with half the sass she puts up with now if you were still here, that’s for sure. How sometimes you intimidated me so badly, but I still knew I could crawl up in your chair with you and you wouldn’t mind one bit.

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I miss you stopping over to fix something up whenever you were in the neighborhood. I miss you telling me that I had my eyes open during prayer and how you would chuckle at the astonished “How did you know?!” look that would creep onto my guilty little face. You gave me lessons in how to properly swat flies. You told me stories about your time in the army. You would help with anything I needed and come up with all these ingenious ways to solve my seven-year-old dilemmas.

I miss how you would sit and listen to me stumble through my latest piano piece, or read my projects for school, and quietly shake your head and say “That Kristyn Grace…she’s somethin’ else.”

You were tough and gentle. Respected and kind. Simple and hardworking. You’re one of the biggest encouragers I can think of.  You always cheered us on no matter what. When I was drum major, you would’ve been right next to Grandma at every parade. When I sang my first solo, you would have clapped the loudest. You would’ve been there at my high school graduation, given input when I bought my first car, been so interested in my trip to Nepal. You would’ve supported me all the way through taking a year off of school, but would be so proud that I’m starting college at the same place you did in less than a month. I learned how to change my oil last night, and for some reason you would have been ridiculously proud of that too.  And whenever I end up bringing a boy home for Christmas, I’m gonna miss you announcing your unapologetic opinion of if he’s “the real deal” or not. But in all honesty, Grandpa, I’ve been finding myself hoping that whoever he is…is a lot like you. Protector. Provider. Humble leader.

Most of all, I miss watching you live out your sincere faith. And how you truly lived for the Lord and desired to please Him in everything you did. You walked with integrity and loyalty and honor. In your own quiet way, you sure raised the bar high.

It’s been nine and a half years, hasn’t it? I may not think about you as much now, but I think I miss you more. I can’t wait to hug you in heaven, and worship side-by-side again.

I love you, Gramps.

I love you a lot.

Kristyn Grace

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