The End

It was a beautiful, fall day when we laid my grandfather to rest. The sun was shining in a blue sky and it was warmer than it had been all week. The morning was a flurry of activity; showering, feeding and dressing the baby and finding something appropriate to wear that would fit my post-partum body. We finally managed to get out the door, getting to the funeral home in time

to get the baby settled in a side room with the babysitter. The speeches were beautiful, sad and injected with some humor, although I only remember the gist of what was said. But certain moments stick out clearly in my memory. When my uncle broke down crying, my heart broke in two and tears fell down my cheeks as well. My brother saying, “I just miss my Grandpa,” speaking the words in my head, broke my heart again. Unfortunately, the babysitter texted that the baby was crying and I had to step out, missing the letter that my mother wrote for her dad. After the speeches were done, we headed over to the cemetery and buried my grandfather, finally laying him to rest. There was nothing left to do except grieve the man we all would miss, the only balm to my soul being that he had lived a good, full life and that now he was no longer suffering.