He called me Emmy.

This past weekend I expected to be in NYC. My brother's band was playing a showcase on Friday night for a record company, and my parents and I were planning to be there to support him. It was going to be my first more than 24 hour time away from my little guy from Thursday to Sunday. We had tickets to the 9-11 Memorial, plans to see Phantom on Broadway, plans to eat pizza in Brooklyn, and {of course} plans to shop.

What I did not plan on was my grandfather passing away on Tuesday night.

I am so blessed to have had him for 31 years. Many memories stick out in my mind about him, but I will share just a few here. He had land out in the country that my cousins, brother, and I played at all summer long when we were young. When our parents would come to pick us up, my grandparents would convince them to let us stay just a little longer. One summer, he fixed up an old riding lawnmower without the blade and built a trailer to drag behind it. We drove that thing all over the place, taking turns steering the tractor and riding on the trailer. We would break it somehow and call him out to come and fix it. He would act irritated that we had messed something up, but we all knew really he loved it.

Also, he loved to read. He always had a book going. I like to think we were kindred spirits where that was concerned. The worst thing about aging for him was macular degeneration, which clouded his eyesight. Books on tape are just not the same, you know.

I have never lost a loved one until now. {I know I am incredibly blessed to be able to say that.} Coming face to face with mortality last week made me realize how thankful I am for the hope I have in Jesus Christ--that this life is not all that we have to look forward to. I have wonderful memories of growing up as his granddaughter, and the picture below is a treasure to me.