Before I climbed into bed on New Year's Day (it was actually January 2nd by that time), I got a message from my dad and found out that my Grandpa Larsen had passed away. After talking with my dad for a while, I turned to my husband and cried. It was certainly not the way we had hoped to begin this year.
A few hectic days of planning how to get back to Iowa for the funeral followed. Planning with my parents, my sister, my aunt, as we arranged flights, rental car and lodging. In a short time, we had everything arranged and were on our way.
We were asked to write a memory of our grandpa for the service and I found myself looking backward. The thing was that my memories of my grandpa were vague and distant. Even when we had lived in Iowa, we didn't see my grandparents often. After we moved to Arizona, it was extremely rare to see each other. We rarely made it back up to the Midwest and their trips to Arizona were limited to my wedding and after my first child was born. What possible memories did I have?
I remember my grandpa as a quiet man who never rushed anything. Even when he raised his voice, I think it was quieter than most people's speaking voice. He often sat quietly, taking in everything with a small smile on his face. We have a large family (my dad is the middle of seven children) and I think he honestly enjoyed just having the noisy bunch of us all together. He had his own pace and nothing was going to make him hurry. It seemed to just fit him though and I never remember feeling like his pace was too slow. Except for at Christmas.
Every Christmas, before we opened presents, my grandpa would read the Christmas story from Luke chapter 2. In his quiet, unhurried voice, he would remind us of why we celebrate Christmas. As a child, I found myself looking over at the gifts and wishing he would read faster. As an adult, I wish I had appreciated his quiet faith more. He wanted his family to focus on the things that really matter and the thing that mattered most to him was his Savior, Jesus Christ.
I always picture games when I think of the times at my grandpa's house. Mostly we played Uno and I remember that even the children would participate. The younger ones would climb up on someone's lap while they older children had hands of their own to play. I don't think I ever play Uno without thinking about my grandpa.
These last few years were trying for my grandpa. His memory was going and the last time he saw me I could tell that it took him a while to figure out who I was. I do believe that he eventually knew and enjoyed having me there, but when I left, I cried, because I was certain that I had just seen my grandpa alive for the final time. A little while after that, he began to fall and couldn't get back up. The paramedics were called often enough that my grandparents were told that he needed to be placed in a home where he would have medical attention. His heart was failing, his mind was failing, he was aging, but his faith never wavered. He knew Who he believed in and was certain that his final home would be in heaven.
Any funeral has sad moments, but for a believer, it's a sweet sadness. As we gathered to remember my grandpa, there were a few tears shed, but the laughter outweighed the tears. We will miss him, but we have hope that we will see him again someday. I think my grandpa would have been pleased with his service. I think seeing his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren gathered together would have put a smile on his face. Hearing the voices of his family lift together to sing hymns would have brought joy to his heart. But knowing that Jesus was the center of the service would have pleased him the most.
I'm so thankful for the impact that my grandpa had on his family. I hope that I continue his legacy and that faith will be something that our family is known for throughout the generations.
I love you, Grandpa. Thank you!
For Norman Louis Larsen March 7, 1930-January 2 2015
