Having a history degree can be both a curse and a blessing.
My grandfather died last week at the age of 77. One of my most frequently-recurring thoughts was: I have no right to grieve over his passing.
You see, Grandpa didn’t die of starvation, disease or malnutrition, as innumerable inhabitants of this world have. He didn’t die as a victim of war or any of its widespread effects. Or from religious persecution, a target of racial or cultural genocide—even as a tragic martyr.
All things considered, he lived a long and happy life.
My grandfather died last week at the age of 77. One of my most frequently-recurring thoughts was: I have no right to grieve over his passing.
You see, Grandpa didn’t die of starvation, disease or malnutrition, as innumerable inhabitants of this world have. He didn’t die as a victim of war or any of its widespread effects. Or from religious persecution, a target of racial or cultural genocide—even as a tragic martyr.
All things considered, he lived a long and happy life.
I don't yet have words to express what this man meant to me, or how his quiet but real - oh, so very real - Priesthood power shaped my testimony, my vision of who I am and what I have to do here. Somehow I was always aware that my grandpa knew more about me than I knew about myself.
And as fortunate as I am to have been a recipient of his particular love, his unwavering faith and his shining example of a Christlike life, I can't help but wish he'd been around longer to see my future children. Family meant everything to him.
I'll miss you, Grandpa. But I'll see you later.
I have no doubt.
I thought the same thing when my grandpa died - my kids won't get to know him! That's a bit of a bummer.
ReplyDeleteSorry for how painful I know this is for you . . . but so glad that we have knowledge of THE PLAN. And now you've got one more angel in your corner.