One year ago today.

It was his smile. It was his delight in the simplest things. It was his work ethic. It was his love for my grandma. It was his honesty. It was his drive to learn new things. It was that he would drop anything at anytime to listen and care. It was his strength. It was his joy.

My grandpa lived and breathed the word of God and it was clear in his life. He loved without reservation. He trusted, he rejoiced, he believed, he gave generously. He taught with his words and his actions what it looks like to put others before yourself, to put complete faith in Jesus, and to walk humbly.

He loved dessert. He loved Christmas. He loved traditions. He gardened. He grew the biggest tomatoes and always had more cucumber than anyone could stand. He didn't let disease or sickness or pain stop him. He had the worst voice. He sang all the time.

He came for me when I was lost. Literally lost in the middle of the night in the middle of no where. He came to me when I was broken. Broken down on the side of the road. Broken down from a ripped apart heart. He listened to me when I was angry and confused. He didn't judge. He didn't react.

He poured over me with love and joy and sweet words of life.
He baptized me. He married me. He loved me.
Grandpa I love you. I miss you. I'm glad you are home.


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