Grandpa Coombs

Today was my Grandpa Coombs' funeral. As I was getting ready, Benson asked me if it was really smart to waste all that make up (as I would cry it off later). There were 3 beautiful musical numbers, and my aunt and uncle gave touching tributes about the man I called "Gramps." My grandpa had been sick for a while, and I knew the end was near, so the call on Friday that he had moved on did not come as a surprise. But when I woke up Sunday, it hit me... The last time I saw him was the last time I will see him in this life. I know this is all part of the plan. I know he is in a better place. I know he is with his parents, that he has had a sweet reunion with a father he had never met, who had died a month before his birth, that he is with his mother who he loved and spoke of with such tenderness. I know he is no longer in pain. I know this is only a temporary good bye. And yet my Grandma looked so small and lost and alone without him. I feel sad for myself. But grateful that he was my grandpa. He came to so many of my classes to play the guitar, he took me on a date on my fourteenth birthday, he pretended that who ever won at miniature golf was who had the highest score. He made model airplanes with my kids and showed them old movies with the real planes in them, and when they were shooting foam airplanes in their house and I was telling them to stop he told them to aim better. He told jokes (Did you hear the one about the invisible man who married the invisible woman? They didn't see much of each other. Their kids weren't much to look at either!) and sang and when I played my flute he said it sounded perfect. He would answer the phone and say, "Well Liz! You're looking good!" I have so many great memories. I am grateful. And sad.