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Checkers





One of my favorite people in the whole of the world passed away last night.

Grandpa Myers, my pawpaw. The man whose name I carry. He left a legacy of laughter, hope, faithfulness, and unshaken optimism even in the face of death. He was brilliant in a way that you’d probably underestimate him. He was not perfect but he was kind. 

There was always something deeply profound about his love for us

Recently he’s had several health scares so we’ve talked quite a bit about life and death.  I believe he knew the Lord and I believe he is with Him now. I just do. Do not mistake my peace for apathy or indifference because I care more than you can even begin to understand. Something keeps echoing through my mind that grampa said. It was something like:


I’ve had a great life, a blessed life, and when it’s my time it’s my time. I’m okay with that, there’s no reason to make a fuss about it.


God is good and has provided us with hope. The atheist says we are but a cosmic accident. But what about this somber ache in my heart? What about the this thick blanket of hope covering it? 

HOW DO YOU ACCOUNT FOR THAT?!

You simply can’t. You’d say my ache is just as arbitrary as my existence. That just doesn’t cut it, though.
I don’t NEED to feel better. I NEED the truth to know what to do with what IS and what IS real is this wave of grief coming in little by little. What’s real are these memories of playing checkers with my grampa. What’s real is this love you can’t put in a beaker and this life you can’t map out in a quadratic equation.

I miss my pawpaw already.

I love him still.

I hope to see him someday when I’ve no need for hope anymore.

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