I'm not happy with my last post.
While I was at the funeral, my Grandfather said the saddest thing I've ever heard and I was speechless. I didn't know what to say, but I knew that I could NOT cry.
He said "It doesn't get any easier. It's rough Cole. Not only did I lose my brother, but I lost my best friend."
It hit me so hard that it physically hurt. To me it was just another funeral, but not to him.
As hard as it hit me, I knew I couldn't cry. Not that crying is bad or would make me less of a man. I just knew that if I started crying then he would. I was so scared to see him cry that I stopped myself from doing it. I didn't want to see my Grandfather cry. I've only knew strength from him and I didn't want it to acknowledge that he could break down too.
I mean this is my Granddad. Not just any Granddad but GRANDDAD. The teeth sneezer, the Hairyman slayer, the bull puncher, the mini horse wrangler. He is the stuff upon which legends are built.
He is the most genuine person I know. I wish everyone could know him and I could know him even more so.
Now I feel really bad about that evening because maybe he needed to cry. Maybe that might have been his only real chance to let it out.
One thing I did learn is that funerals are not for the deceased. People try to make arrangements for their loved ones because "it's what they would have wanted." The dead don't care. For better or worse they have moved on. Funerals are for the ones they've left, so they can make their peace and say goodbye. It helps them move on.
"Like the wings stolen from an angel
Like petals gone from a rose
Like a dove caught in a storm
Tonight he is in the Lord's arms"
On a lighter note, I made my Aunt Pat laugh during the funeral. She is the widow. I hope it really made her happy for just those few seconds, because those few seconds made everything worth it to me. It's times like those that make me happy to be me and I thank the Lord for them.
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