My grandfather passed away last night.
It was unexpected.
It happened quickly and with no pain.
I know that I should take comfort in knowing that he is in Heaven, probably fixing fences and bossing crews around, but it hurts.
For me, mourning is like a title fight that I am unprepared for. And just when I think its over and I'm back on my feet, it deals another left hook that takes me to my knees.
And it's crazy things - things like pulling into the gas station at the local grocery store and realizing that I'll never again run into him in the parking lot or the coffee shop inside.
Or knowing that I'll never drive past their house again and see him out there tinkering with some old equipment he found.
Just looking at that picture above knocks the wind out of me.
There is no doubt that my siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews and I have been abundantly blessed to have so many great years with him.
To know that yesterday he worked all day. Spent the day outside doing the things that he loved to do. Went inside and ate a delicious dinner, then went peacefully to be with the Lord as he was drifting off to sleep.
The memories that we all have of him, that were shared today among family and friends, will always be ours.
He will always live in our hearts and spirits.
He taught every one of us the joy of living. Of putting in a hard day's work. He has left a legacy that will reach into generations that I will never meet.
But right now my heart is cracked and the healing process my be excruciating.