The Toughest Man We Ever Knew

I hope my roof doesn't collapse, but I've gotta take a break.  There are at least two feet of snow up there, its raining and making the snow heavier by the minute, and raking it off is such hard work my arms are shaking as I type.

Going to Manassa, CO for my Grandad's funeral was so wonderful.  It was a happier time than my Grandma Barbara's funeral a year and a half ago.  It was painful then to see my Grandad so sad.

Highlights: 

Sharing memories about Grandad at Danette and Perry's.  Uncle Dan told about a time many years ago he was helping Grandad load hay on the back of a man's trailer.  When the hay was loaded the man hopped in his truck and said, "I'll pay you next week."  Grandad planted himself in front of the truck and said, "No, you'll pay me now.  Cash."  The man said, "I don't have any cash.  I'll give you a check."  Grandad said, "No, your checks are no good.  I told you it would be cash."  The man continued to argue but Grandad was firm, and Dan had to unload the hay.  Cousin-in-law Jared said, "Since Grandad was a Marine and I was in the airforce, I was talking with him one time because we had both had similar experiences with bullets flying past our heads.  He told me to find something to be grateful for in every situation.  A while later I was in a situation where a suicide bomber blew himself up and his face landed at my feet.  I heard Grandad's voice telling me to find something to be grateful for and I thought, 'I'm grateful that's not my face.'"

The funeral (how I wish I'd taken notes!): all the grandson's wore one of Grandad's ties.  All the granddaughters wore Grandma's beads.  Scott told this story.  Lex talked about how tough Grandad was and how we hoped some of that toughness rubbed off on Justin, who just joined the navy.  He talked about what a good man Grandad was, how he hoped we'd all live so that someday we could once again hear him say, "For heck's sakes, it's Lex" (or Charlotte or Lynsey or Phillip--you get the picture), and how Grandad had told him to never take any wooden nickels, and thanks to that advice, he never has taken a wooden nickel to this day.  Aunt Deon, Grandad's only sibling (who looks fantastic, btw) talked about growing up with Grandad, going to dances with him, how fun he was to dance with and how she knew he was always watching out for her, how he didn't talk much or sing very well, but the first time he let her ride with him from the cabin into town, they would sing as they rode their horses.  On the high notes he would stand up in his stirrups so he could reach those high notes.

The cemetery: When a Marine did the role call and all the other Marines answered "Here" (or was it "Present" or something else?) and then called for Cletus M. Gilleland three times before someone said he wasn't present because he had been called home, I cried like a baby.

As tough as Grandad was, we'll never forget how tender and good he was, either.  How he always greeted us by name (the right name, I might add.  I call my kids and siblings the wrong names all the time, calling Damon "Justin," for example.  I inherited that problem from my mom.) and gave such warm hugs.  How he cared for Grandma, how devoted he was as her health failed.  How sincerely and beautifully he prayed.

Enough.  The snow is waiting for me, crying gives me a headache, and we've been blessed with having more to celebrate than to mourn.