Just some thoughts..

I'm not very good at expressing myself. Being silly and making fun of myself, sure. But I struggle expressing the deep important emotions. So please forgive my awkward stumbling as I try to convey what I'm feeling.

The holidays are such a sentimental and family oriented time of the year. More than ever my thoughts are focused on family and how lucky I am to have them. So consequently I have been thinking a lot and terribly missing this man.

I took the time to read through all of the blog posts that you all wrote about him, and they were more beautiful then I remembered.

Every time I see his truck parked in our driveway, I automatically think Oh grandpa's here to go to the farm with dad. I go to my grandparent's house, and I assume that he's back in the bedroom, but when I peek in there to see, it's just an empty room. I expect to hear that big booming voice that only Grandpa Wallace had every time there's a family gathering, whether to pray or to tell stories.

In my head I just go on and on thinking that everything is still the same. That on Christmas Eve he'll read the Christmas story from the Bible. That he'll be there for the cattle drive. That for every grand-kid that gets married, and every great-grandchild that is born, he'll be there loving and supporting and giving counsel like always.

And that's when it hurts. It hurts because it matters, because he mattered to me, and to all of us.

The beautiful thing though, is for every sad lonely moment, for every time it hurts not to have my grandpa physically here, I see him.

I see him in all of my family members. I see mannerisms, and personality traits, and physical attributes in all of his daughters and son. More than that I see it in his grandchildren. I see some of you with his nearly constant positive attitude. Others with his sense of humor, or confidence or love for the farm and Hatch. But in all of you, I see the ability to love like Grandpa Wallace. Not just to love each other as family, but to love everyone you come in contact with. 

To me, it doesn't really matter that we have his truck or his saddles or his boots or any of his personal belongings. Although they are wonderful things to remember him by. I guess to me, they're just things. 

What means a lot to me right now, are memories. Like Grandpa holding Grandma's hand all the time. The way that every time I cut my hair short, he called it a shingle-bob. Which, I was never very sure if it was a good thing to have a shingle-bob or not. I remember how after I shot my first deer, how proud he made me feel of myself. It's one of the first times in my life I really felt good about myself and like I could make other people proud of me. The deer is insignificant. My Grandpa making me feel so good is what mattered. 

I could go on forever talking about memories.

But, I guess what is the most important thing of all, is Grandpa Wallace loved the gospel. There's no way around it. I know he loved his Heavenly Father and Savior. I know it by the way he raised his family, and the way he lived his life. I am beyond grateful to him for being the man who showed my dad how to be a father, and for showing all his family what really mattered in life was the gospel. 

I know because of how he lived, he's in a wonderful place now. I know he is very much aware of all of us, and loves us just as much as ever. I know eventually, I will see him again. I believe we will hug, in a big bear hug that only Grandpa Wallace could give. And I believe it'll be one of the happiest moments of my existence. 

I don't know why I am missing my Grandpa so much. Whether it's just the holidays or just a random patch of loneliness, I don't know. I'm not sure the hurt really will ever completely disappear, and that's ok. 

I know he's there rejoicing with my successes and empathizing in my failures. I know he still loves me. 

And really, when I think about it, Heaven's not that far away.