and life goes on part two...

The thoughts in my head yesterday and what I wrote didn't really match up. I think I was so tired last night I wrote off on my bunny trails...

Isn't it strange how when someone passes life just charges on? It seems as if there should be a moment where everything stops and everyone take notice and say a little prayer for the loved ones of the person. But there isn't...life just goes on. I remember when Aaron's grandfather died and I heard the message. I just stood in the kitchen that Easter Sunday wondering what to do next. Do I call Aaron at work? Do I wait for him to get home? Do I call his dad back? Everything seemed to get quiet and peaceful for a moment, but then the kids darted into the kitchen. Life goes on.

When I was listening to the message from my grandma Monday..."Honey, Pop waited until I got there and then he passed away"....Tears immediately fell from my face. I felt horrible inside. Again, everything got quiet and peaceful for a half of a moment and then the kids ran around me in circles. Maybe they noticed the tears, maybe they didn't. Life goes on.

The last several phone conversations I had with my grandfather all ended with him saying, "love those kids, do everything you want to do with them, enjoy them, give them kisses, and you can even kiss that husband of yours too". He was such a good man. Shouldn't everyone and everything stop to take notice that the world has lost such a man?

He was such wonderful man. He loved bright socks, sweets, cookies, wood-working, cars, (he could tell me every car he had ever owned, color, & year). He cried at television shows, movies, and commercials...I am certainly my grandpa's grand-daughter. "Stick it your ear" he used to say. He would sit with us and play the organ. We would sit in his basement watching him do his thing with all of his tools. And the things he made with those tools. The kids have endless cars, blocks, and trucks from him. Molly has her red "Molly's Rig" from her great-grandpa and her baby cradle. The one Christmas I remember most was the one where me and my sisters got our dollhouse from Grandpa. From the shingles to the little toilet...we spent endless hours playing with that. Every summer when we would stay we would go bowling and putt putt. I remember him judging our coloring contests as kids and remind us always to outline and stay within those lines. I will always remember how the kids (our kids) looked at him when he talked ...and how when he told a story and imitated one of us girls his voice would get really high. And his laugh...I'll always remember his laugh.

I was blessed to have been his grand-daughter.