Granddad is Home.

My daddy would carry our little sleeping forms out to the family station wagon in the dark hours of the morning.  It was Christmastime, and we were traveling “over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go”; as the catchy song phrase goes.

I love the memories I have from those trips: sleeping in the car, waking up to the sunrise; staring out at the peaceful, snow-covered farm lands as we drove past, arriving at Grandma and Granddad’s-

— and then

BIG smiles and arms open wide from both grandparents as we walked up to their house.  Kisses and hugs all around.

Hours later, as the four of us kids proved to be high-energy and highly mischievous creatures, Granddad would sometimes be caught muttering to himself that we were noisy and a nuisance.  Noisy, indeed.

Older people who’ve grown accustomed to peace and quiet generally need a time of adjustment to get used to the cacophony of little ones, and my granddad was no different.  Once adjusted, though, he would take us on walks, play basketball with us, tell us stories of his growing-up years, join us to visit his sweet sister in the next town over, ask us myriads of questions (mostly about sports and academics) over dinner, and proudly introduce us to his friends at church.  He knew no stranger, it seemed to me, and I remember feeling so special that he took such pride in his grandchildren.

Granddad is Home | Journey of Faith | loss of grandparents

It wasn’t until I reached adulthood that he spoke to me of his memories from the war.  Hard times.  Valiant men who served.  I had always respected my Granddad, and my admiration for him grew enormously as he opened up to me about his wartime experiences.  I learned so much from him on what it means to be a person of integrity, as well as the importance of sacrificing for the good of others.  As I listened to him over the years, I learned that my freedom came at great cost to him and to many other courageous men and women.  I pray that I never forget the price of freedom {or} specifically what those individuals fought for.

My granddad passed away last night at the age of 93.  It’s hard for me to believe that his time on this earth has come to an end – where has it gone?  Why is death so grievous, even when it comes at a ripe, old age?  We are mourning our loss of such a man, celebrating his long and full life, and remembering Who has taken away the sting of death for us. My granddad was quiet about his faith in Christ, but I imagine that he is there with the King now, unhindered by sin and the limitations of humanity.

And while I believe it is entirely appropriate to hate death and grieve the separation it causes – death, after all, only came as a result of the Fall – I am also thankful for the hope that is in Christ.  My goodbye is not final, and in terms that I pray my granddad now understands, he will just be seeing me “tomorrow” in the presence of our Savior.

Our Savior, the One who suffered at infinite cost to Himself to purchase our eternal and full freedom, “that we should be called children of God (1 John 3:1)”.

On this side of heaven, I will miss my granddad much and often.  I will treasure the memories I have from my time with him.  And I will rejoice in my Hope, Jesus Christ.

I will see you tomorrow, Granddad!

Granddad is Home | Journey of Faith | loss of grandparents

A thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night. -Psalm 90:4


2 thoughts on “Granddad is Home.

  1. Deborah, Thank you for sharing stories and memories of your granddad! It sounds like he was an amazing person. So thankful we have the hope that our goodbyes here are not forever. Praying for you and your family. Hugs


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