Mourning in Faith

My last living grandparent died last night.  My dear Grandpa Jerry.  He had a mild heart attack a couple weeks ago, was in the ICU for almost 3 weeks, but just got put into a rehab unit since he was doing so well.  They were making plans for rehab and hopes of him coming home.  Then, out of no where, he was gone.  I knew he wasn't going to live forever, but I thought he had months left, not days.  I got to see him last weekend while he was still in the ICU, which I'm so grateful for.

I know that God is real, that He has a plan for us.  I know that my Grandpa Jerry is finally reunited with his sweetheart, my Grandma Joy, after being gone for several years, and suffering with Alzheimer disease for many years before that.  Eternal families are real, and temple sealings are the key.

But I am also really sad.

I'm sad that my grandpa died.  I'm sad that he won't know my future children in this life.  I'm sad that I don't have any more living grandparents.  I'm sad that a whole generation is lost.  I'm sad that I no longer have Grandpa Jerry's wisdom, humor, encouragement, and conversations.  I'm sad that his dog misses him.  I'm sad that my grandpa will miss the next Rebel season (he said he would live for one more basketball season).  I'm sad that my dad is sad.  I'm sad that my aunts and uncle are sad.  I'm just sad.

And that's okay.  Because I know I'll see my grandpa again some day, as well as my other grandparents and great grandparents and cousin and loved ones that have passed on.  I miss them all too.  But the sadness will fade, and memories and hope for our future reunion takes its place.

But for now, I think I'll cry a little more while I eat lunch.