To Pa

Every Sunday morning I carve out a bit of quiet time for myself while my family sleeps. This week, my grandfather's sweet spirit settled around me and left me with words. He always leaves me with words, which is funny, because he was a man of so few.

On the day you died I didn't know how I could live in a world that you did not inhabit
I'd never done that before
I worried about her too
I thought she might take hold of your hand and follow as you journeyed on
It turns out that she wasn't ready just yet
She still had smiles to smile, stories to tell, and lessons to pass on
I've always loved the part of her that refuses to wrap a story around a lesson
There are lessons to be learned
And there are stories
It isn't necessary to mix the two
I hope you can see her from where you are
She is strong and stubborn
She is light and joy
She is grit and determination
She is still everything you loved her for
And everything that I've come to admire
I hope you don't mind waiting a bit longer
She's not ready just yet (and neither am I)
She's got a few more stories to tell
And I want to hear them all

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