Wow, so much has taken place since my last post. I am still in divinity school and I think that this is the first semester, where I feel that I am finally becoming acclimated to the course work.
Life in this world is a journey. It has a beginning and an end, from the moment we are conceived in our mother’s womb. Holding my beloved ninety-four years old grandfather’s hand as he crossed over to the other side, I saw his journey come to an end. Words will never express the love that my grandfather and I shared. He was the only earthly father that I knew. He raised me. Cared for me. Treated me with kindness. Loved me as if I was his daughter instead of his granddaughter.
On April 4, 2014, I took him to the hospital and on April 17, 2014 I had to say goodbye to him for now. Yet, I am so thankful for those thirteen days that we had to pray together, talk about old times, and recognize the power of God through the blood of Jesus Christ. I spent most every day with him and each night at the hospital by his side, while other family members came and went. I think that God gave the two of us a miracle with those extra days to talk and say goodbye. But even then, even knowing that my grandfather was saved, I had hoped that he would stay a little longer.
My gentle grandfather crossed over in the gentle way that he lived. He was humble, gracious, and always forgiving. While I thought that he loved me most. After talking with one of my many cousins, who said, “Granddad had a way of making each of us feel that we were special and his favorite”. It surprised me that all of my cousins’ felt that they were his favorite, when I thought that was my coveted spot. But they were right. That was my grandfather’s gift. His gentle sweet resolve, valued what was important to each of his grandchildren.
A man that raised five children by himself, during a time when it was not fashionable to be a single dad; a man that never cared for worldly things; a man that would softly scold us if he thought that we brought him something that cost to much. And yes, he was always thankful for the smallest gift or act of kindness and always told us so. No matter how many times, I would tell him, “Dad you don’t have to thank me.” Even at the hospital, when his time was small, he told me “Thank you”.
For I am the one that must say “Thank you”. I am the one that owes him and will always thank him for being in my life. “Thank you granddad”. “Thank God in Jesus’ name for you granddad”. Your faith for living was evident until the end.
God Bless…I am Wiley’s granddaughter.