my grandpa

Nicholas and I have been in Utah since Tuesday.  It's been a whirlwind of activity--planning, gathering, talking, errand-running.
And oh am I so glad that I was able to be here.

There are 76 people in the family from my Grandma on down.  At the funeral yesterday, 72 of us were there (we were missing two missionaries and two husbands unable to come with). 
I don't think I realized until yesterday why everyone gathers like that for funerals.

You see, it was a beautiful day.  Some moments were oh so hard-my chest gathered up into a tight ball and I felt like I could just sit on the floor and sob and sob like I did when I was a little girl.  But most of the day was peaceful, calm, tender.  And it felt so good to see everyone there, all of us together, with open arms, asking each other "how are you?" and being able to say "good" and really truly mean it. 

Because we know we will see Grandpa again. 
And I can't wait for that, I can't wait to see him, to have him say again,
"Sit down, Becky-girl" in that soft voice of his, the voice that made each one of us feel like we were his very favorite child or grandchild.

My grandpa was a special man. 
My cousin Emily posted his obituary and it's the most wonderful obituary I've ever read.
I've sat down at this computer five or six times to write a post about him, but...where do I start?  And then I start thinking,
and then I start missing him,
and then I can't write it.




I do have a few stories I want to share about my grandpa, though, stories that I will always have to make me smile when I think about him.

The first story is short:

I walked next-door to Grandma and Grandpa's house on day last winter.  Grandma was upstairs and she told me that Grandpa was downstairs doing name indexing like he often did. (He indexed over 38,000 names before he died last week.  He started when he became too sick to work in the temple anymore.)  When I got down to his den, Grandpa was sitting at his computer, deep in concentration.
But it wasn't indexing this time.
"Becky," he asked me, "do you know how to play this Solitare game?  I learned once, but I can't remember what I'm supposed to do next."

I told him I didn't know but I'd be sure to have my dad come over later to teach him.