My grandpa Jack passed away last Friday. While I'm grateful he's no longer in pain or suffering, it's still hard to say goodbye.
He was my Papa and I have so many wonderful memories of him. I can still hear the sweet enthusiasm in his voice every time he saw me. "Well, hello, Sara!" I can still see the way his eyes crinkled until they were almost closed when he laughed from a lifetime of telling stories of all his adventures. I rarely heard the same story twice. The last time we spoke I heard a story I'd never heard before about how he spent a bag of wheat pennies he was supposed to save when he was a kid. He taught me a lot. He taught me to gather as many life experiences as possible. I hope when I'm an old lady I'll have endless stories to tell my grandkids like he did.
He taught me to laugh often. When I think about Papa, I see him smiling and laughing. Which is kinda ironic since he absolutely hated smiling for photos.
He taught me to break the rules sometimes. When my brother Cody and I were kids, he would let us stand up in the back of his van while he drove around the block. Granted that's not the safest, it sure stuck with us as fun. He let us drive around the neighborhood in his golf cart. We thought we were pretty cool driving on the streets in a golf cart.
I am so lucky I got to have Papa in my life for as long as I did.
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