Today was the funeral. It was a lovely service. I say that in all seriousness and not in the least bit bitterly. It was a much better service than Joshua’s.
So many times today people called him a “storyteller.” I like that. That is definitely how I remember him. Sitting in one of his chairs, either in the livingroom or in the dining room, telling story after story after story. It used to annoy me sometimes. Now I’d give anything in the world to hear just one more of his stories.
He looked very handsome today as well. Of course, Joshi’s coffin was closed. Mom’s was open but they didn’t do a very good job with her. Grandpa looked really good though. He was wearing his navy blue pinstripe suit, a blue shirt. I don’t remember the color of the tie. So very handsome.
Grandma did well. I helped her to stand at the coffin and say goodbye. It must have been so hard. To have been married to someone for nearly 68 years and then have him suddenly be gone. It has to be scary and lonely and sad. She leaned in and kissed his hand, though. It was the first time I’d seen her truly cry since his death.
A friend mailed me condolences the other day and said that he knew that Grandpa had been a beacon in my life and that is true. He and I had our differences but we loved each other dearly. I will miss him terribly and I do feel as if a light has gone out in my life.
This is another of those times that I wish I could believe in heaven and god and future togetherness in a kingdom with streets of gold. My memories of him will have to be enough.