Today we said goodbye to my grandpa, my dad’s dad. At 86 years old, he passed peacefully last Saturday with my Aunt Marla by his side.
I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to visit with him two weeks ago and say “goodbye.” We talked about God’s grace, Heaven, and forgiveness. About the kids and how much he wanted to watch them grow up. We talked about how he used to worried about me, but he knew now I was going to be okay. He told me he was proud of the woman I had become—the mom, daughter, wife, teacher, friend…that I am so many things to so many people, and he was proud of me for being me. That I married the best man, and my daddy would have been so proud of the life we have built. He told me that he and grandma loved me so very much.
And I told him that I loved him. That I had never doubted his love for me or my kids. That he had been the best grandfather. That he was a good man. That I was thankful for him. And for grandma. That their love for me was evident in everything they had done. That the time they spent taking care of me in college when I was lost was time I treasured. And as much as I wished he could be here to go to ball games and dance recitals and cheer competitions, I was thankful for the time we had.
He told me he was tired. He was hurting. He hoped he had done enough. He had made his peace. He was ready.
He asked me if I thought he would know daddy when he got to Heaven. I told him yes. That they’d find each other, but it would be different than what we know here. He needed to hear it, and I need to believe it. Because it gives me peace.
I’m choosing to believe that they are together, pain free at last. They are probably smoking a cigarette on that heavenly river while they catch all the fish.
After five long years, my daddy is reunited with his dad, and I know the angels are rejoicing that a good man has found his way home.
Oliver Cook
January 2, 1935-March 6, 2021
Diary of a Girl from Nowhere 