So, at 1300 EST Sunday, I received word that my Grandpa had crossed the bar. It was a blessing to have known him all these years.
It’s hard, but we’ll soldier on. I’ve shed my tears, and now would rather share something that best captures what I feel. Rather than dwelling in loss, I’ll fondly remember that he lived.
So that’s how I’ll go about it all. I don’t think Grandpa would’ve liked it if we were sad during the Christmas season. He was never one to have things weigh him down, not that I’ve seen. So to Grandpa, thanks for the memories. We’ll take care of grandma, and we’ll meet again later.
So in closing, I leave behind this poem from my favorite poet, and to me, is much fitting of my mood. Grandpa is in the care of the Lord now, and I am glad he has found peace.
Sunset and evening star,
/And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
/When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
/Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
/Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
/And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
/When I embark;
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
/The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
/When I have crost the bar.
“Crossing the Bar” (1889)
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson