I said a few words at my granddaddy’s funeral on Wednesday. I’ll go ahead and say that I’ve never felt less worthy to stand on a platform and speak. I wear a belt buckle that says “Death Before Dishonor,” but my granddaddy lived that more than I ever have.
I’ll never see someone wash their hands in a kitchen sink without thinking about him. He always went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink when he would come home from his service station. Don’t ask me why that’s always stuck out to me in my mind, but it has.
I miss him greatly. He was a gracious man. I have a second cousin who was married 5 times; in our conservative Southern family, this was obviously a hot topic. Whenever anyone wanted to bad mouth my cousin, Granddaddy wouldn’t have it. She was his niece, and no one was going to mess with her. My granddaddy was like a shepherd to his family and friends.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that he reminds me of Christ. God. I’m looking forward to seeing him again, Alzheimer’s-free.
I understand, man… at least a little. I’ve lost three grandparents now to horrible diseases (one being Alzheimer’s). I know how much you look up to him, and you do so with good reason. From all accounts, he was a man we should all have been so lucky to call “Grandaddy.”
I look forward to that day when death is finally, completely defeated.