Last Saturday my family gathered to say goodbye to my Grandpa. He past away on April 24 at the age of 92. He lived a long life that was full of trials I can't imagine but it was also full of so much happiness & so much love. He immigrated from Poland as a very young boy, he grew up & worked his finger to the bone. Giving and giving, helping to be a part of building our province. He worked hard until he could no longer give anymore. He married my Grandma almost 60 years ago, how amazing is that. 60 years. He raised 5 daughters, most likely the hardest work of his life. He had 10 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren.
Loosing him was hard, I cried and cried for loss. For death. For no more second chances. For no more "I should go before it's too late" trips. Death is final. I cried hard for my Dad, this all felt too soon, too much to deal with. I cried hard for my Mom, who too has no father now.
As they opened the doors to carry my Grandpa to the hearse, it rained the prettiest rain. They stepped outside and the rain stopped. A good friend reminded me once that this rain is the angels sharing your grief. I smiled when I saw the rain. At the grave side service I was struck by a moment that was absolutely beautiful. The sky was black, all around us were black clouds that promised rain. There was a part in the center of those black clouds that allowed the sun to shine down onto us. As we stood there placing roses on his casket the warmth from the sun could be felt on our backs. It shone like that until we all walked away, then the clouds closed and the rain came. I smiled again and said goodbye.