I Miss my Grandpa's Laugh

When I got the call that my Grandpa was in the hospital with Leukemia I instantly thought about how much I would miss his stories.
Not because of my own selfish need but because my Grandpa is his stories. As long as I can remember dinners always lasted longer than the food because G-Pa always had a story to tell. And as we all sat around him in that hospital room we were telling each other his stories.
Because his stories are what sustain us. His stories are what will keep him alive.
Towards the end of his life we heard all about his dreams. It is a comforting thing to know that he'll be living those dreams for the rest of eternity; beating Michael Phelps for the gold and landing airplanes in his living room. His stories are what sustain us and to know that he is reliving those stories and living those dreams in heaven is the most comforting thing of all.
Yes, it's a comforting thing to know that my Grandpa is going home--this earth is not our home, we belong in the loving arms of our Heavenly Father.
I suppose that means we belong where we've always been.

My Waxen Frame

Fan me,
I'm a flickering flame
Rid me of my
Waxen frame.
Give me bones
And give me blood.
Fan me,
I'm a flickering flame.

OH, WHAT WARM LIGHT!

Oh, what warm light

Flooding through the cracks and pores

Permeating every fiber, every floating

Speck. My eyes

No longer blind

My body no longer bound

I stand, inches taller

My pallid complexion replaced

By warm, bright light.

the space that was filled with a thick,

diseased darkness is free

and filled with light.

I stand and my feet don’t touch the ground.