I've always been one for clever words, but what do you say at a time like this? A few months ago when I learned you were sick, I was heart broken. I racked my brain for any sign of weakness and could not find a single instance indicating you'd ever slow. You worked incessantly only pausing to watch an old western flick or read a book. You were always teaching me to expand and explore. Your Christmas/Birthday gift giving is evidence. A bug dissecting kit, ant farm, mapped globe, mountain bike, hiking boots, money counter, pet frogs and the best 4 years as an Aggie all testify.
With an estimated three months on the clock, I learned to love more fiercely. I'd call you more to hear that famous first line, "Hiiii Cassie-doo!" I'd squeeze you just a little tighter. I forced you to take more pictures and I wasn't so afraid to ask you questions. You were closed so tightly it was hard to get in, but on one drive in particular I had just woken up from a nap when I caught you in my favorite mood. We talked about your worries, what you wanted to accomplish before you left, where you thought you were going and the things you would miss out on. Every item of conversation displaying a hushed humble kindness and sweet selflessness. I had time to memorize the way you talked, the things you liked and all that you had accomplished. I learned to love everything about you. Your stubbornness, the way you'd always escape socializing to read a book and how quiet you could be.
The day before you left we drove up to see you. You were so sick. We came in and stood by your bed, but we weren't sure if you knew we were there. I went to leave the room a few minutes later when you unexpectedly looked right at me and said, "Hey Cassie-doo! How was your trip?!" with as much excitement as you always tried to have when you talked to me. I'm sure even that exhausted you, but you gave all the energy you had to show I am loved.
How lucky am I to have both love and loss as a part of my days? It's human emotions like this that run deep enough to let us know we are truly alive.
My grandpa, father and friend died of cancer on January 4th, 2015. I love him so much and am sad to say goodbye, but I know it's only temporary. I'm so thankful for the knowledge I have of a Heavenly Father who loves us heaps and wants us to be happy. It's this knowledge that tells me you are not lost. Until we meet again Grampsy.
Also, this is embarrassing, but could I get any more vulnerable? Probably not. Here's a poem I wrote a couple days after my grandpa passed away.
Tough as Cowboys
By Cassandra Dillard
With dark brown leather skin
spotted with hushed stories and those
classic Levi 501’s
you were tough as cowboys.
Lead by the collar of your polo shirt
and with energized youth
on your back, you’d gently gallop
to the sweet sound of child’s laughter.
Houses built by hand
and pennies pinched so tightly
they’d leave imprints of Abe.
You’d leave your own prints of
devotion and love.
Those calloused hands placed
salt-stained shoes, bones and books
on the shelves of nostalgia.
Carefully watching those that came before you
while saddling up for remarkable trails ahead
kicking up a quiet peaceful dust as you went.
