A Heavy Heart

Today my wonderful, hilarious, spunky, 87 year old Papa passed away or as he would say "kicked the bucket." It was an incredibly sad day for me, but I'm relieved and happy to know that he is in a better place. In fact, I smile when I think he's probably up in heaven right now chatting with the other angels, only he is smoking his Lucky Strikes and drinking a cup of coffee. I could write a book about all the amazing, fun memories I've shared with him over the past 33 years, but instead I want Bennett to look back on this blog one day (I hope he's able to do so) and remember the last time we both spent with Papa. In early July, we were leaving Portland to fly back home so Papa came over to say goodbye. While we were sitting around the kitchen table chatting, Bennett looked directly at him and said, "Papa". He had only said "hi" and "dada" until this point, so hearing him say Papa to his Great Grandpa who he's only seen a few times since he was born was AWESOME. It was one of those moments I will never forget! We walked Papa out to his car and he told me what a special little boy I had, how incredibly sweet Bennett is, and how I should feel very lucky. After hugs and kisses goodbye, Papa got in his car, rolled down the window, lit up a smoke and said, "I love ya babe." He always said that to me, every time. I love you too, Pop.