Dear Grandpa,

You’ve only been gone a couple of days and already we miss you so very much. The world got a little smaller when you left. There’s a void on this planet that can be felt by those who care for you.

Mom called me Friday night a little after 10 p.m. I knew what she was going to say before I answered the phone. I didn’t want to answer it. It took her two calls to get me to answer the phone because I was too scared to hear her say those words.

“We lost him,” she told me.

I cried grandpa. Even though I knew you were going and that you were in so much pain before you died, I still wanted you to stay. Me and Evan prayed every morning and every night for God to hand you a miracle and make you well again. We knew it was in vain, but we kept trying.

Now that you’re gone, I keep thinking about what the holidays will feel like. I keep wondering what (aside from your presence) will go missing in this family.

Mike Chambers wrote an article about you in the Denver Post. His article ended up on MSN's national news. Lori Henderson and the athletes at the Kansas City Highland Games competed in honor of your memory, and the challenge caber thrown by the big guys did it for you.

I’m sorry I missed your induction into the Rocky Mountain Scottish Athletics Hall of Fame. I couldn’t bring myself to make the drive. I was scared that Evan’s last memories of you would be of you lying in a hospital bed, unaware of him, unaware of the ceremony, and already starting to die. I want him to remember you at Christmas time with your tree that was meticulously trimmed every year with ornaments from your travels. I wanted him to remember you with a microphone and a clipboard and a kilt making fun of men at least twice your size. Now I know why you went running every morning for so many decades. If you can’t beat the guys you were making fun of, at least you could out run them.

I’m scared to go to your memorial service. There will be so many people there. Of all the things you were in your life, loved was at the top of the list. Mom is making me sing in front of all those people accompanied by a bagpipe band. I haven’t sung in front of a crowd since the time you saw me sing "Joy to the World" with a rock band. Do you remember the drummer having to duck out of the way of me throwing the stuffed frog? He told me later the frog was much softer than the beer bottles he was used to. That was 10 years ago. But I’ll do it again, even though I’m worried I can’t sing anymore. Been smoking too long. At least if I screw up, the bag pipes will make me sound good. Anyone sounds better than the one instrument that sounds like a dying goose, and I mean that respectfully.

Funerals are for the living. You don’t care anymore, do you. Evan told me that you were getting Heaven ready for the rest of us and that we’d see you again soon when Jesus comes back to take people back to Heaven. I admire his rationale.

Mom was wrong though; we didn’t lose you. My memories are still here. I still love you. You’re not gone in the slightest. I may not ever be able to talk to you again, but all the Scottish community will still call me "Jerry’s Granddaughter." I don’t think half of them know my first name. But they definitely know my last name because of you.

Goodbye Grandpa. I wish Shane could’ve grown up with you the way Evan got to. I wish you were going to be there when Evan does the great things he was put in this world to do. My boys are going to make the Van Dyke name proud, just as you have done. You laid a good path for us to follow and grow.

I’ll see you on the other side.

Love,

Becky