Loss, memories, cross

My Grandfather passed away on Saturday morning. This post is in memory of Lawrence "Pete" Bloss.

He was a quiet man, tall and slender, they say I got my height from him. Quiet, but strong. In the silence, when I looked at him I saw a wisdom that transcended words. Past the wrinkled face, the swollen ankles, or the snow white hair, I could see a concerned father farming to help support his family. A determined man who moved his family's farm across a field with a team of horses. I wish I could have seen his face as he looked down on his farm from a plane as he saw a cloud of smoke only to realize that the smoke was coming from his barn, and the fire was stated by his twin sons. (Sorry uncle Paul.) Through this swollen ankles I could see a track star who went to state in the mile, and who raced my mom to the car after church when she was only a girl. Past the snow white hair I see a care free young man with his red speed boat, and a love of pan fish and sardines. I could imagine his hair blowing in the wind as he flew his ultra light air plane, or road around the county on his motorcycle. When I was a child folks at church told me stories of how he fell off the side of a barn road his ladder all the way down to the ground and walked away from it or was hit by a car crossing the street and yelled at the lady driving the car. Only to walk away once more. I don't think I ever saw Grandpa smile as big as when he talked about Heaven, and how he can't wait to be there. Grandpa is there now, reunited with his wife, no more pain. We will miss him. We will see him again some day.