Peace

My grandfather Rodney (aka Papa/Grandpa) got to go home and meet our Savior on Tuesday, May 15th. Mark and I went to Illinois for the visitation and funeral on Thursday and Friday. Mark was a pallbearer(all the grandsons were, with all the granddaughters as "honorary" pallbearers, which really means you just walk behind the boys carrying the heavy casket and kinda feel bad that you're not helping), and I read two passages of scripture in the service. Grandpa was a veteran of World War II, so he had an official military send-off at the cemetery - guns, flags, salutes... it was really cool.
Obviously, everyone was mourning - but it was so cool to look through old pictures and hear my grandma tell stories about how they met and when they were first married. Those kind of things need to happen more often. I found a picture of my grandma in 1947 (she was 22, I think) that looked almost exactly like a picture of me taken a few years back. It was really neat. I think we lose history a lot - old stories don't seem important when your life is so full of deadlines and projects and meetings. But our stories don't mean much without those who came before us - and it was good to remember that.
A co-worker told me this morning that I seemed really peaceful. I feel peaceful. My grandpa is kicking around heaven right now - and that's a very good thing.