The greatest storyteller I've ever known...

Two months ago my grandfather passed away.

Two months already, wow. We sort of knew it was coming but I'm not sure that you can ever really be prepared for the death of a loved one can you? I've never lost anyone that close to me before and I have to say, thinking back on it all seems like it was a dream now. Even in the midst of the pain I was really moved by the beauty of it all. The closeness of my family, the way that we all truly grieved, together, on our own...all for him. I don't know if it's rare that grandchildren and great-grandchildren are so close to their grandfather but I like to believe that we are a special case. Watching my little cousins, the teenagers and the little ones alike truly mourn the loss of a wise old man who was and will always be the foundation of our family, was moving.
Coincidentally, I started writing a story about him a week before he died. I wrote one line and I havent touched it since;

"The greatest storyteller I've ever known was born in 1922."

Where do you go from there? How could I capture the life of this man; world war II vet, sheriff's deputy, farmer, meat inspector, musician, father and loving husband of 64 years? I tried to think of his best story but I couldn't. On the plane ride home to his funeral I tried again, through my tears, and again nothing.
I heard lots of stories that week, some I had never heard before and some that I've heard more times than I can count and we relived all that we knew of him through laughter and tears. At the wake and the funeral some 400+ visitors paid their respects. I kept waiting for the flow of people to taper off but it never did. How does an 84 year old man know so many people? They too shared stories with us of how he touched their lives or lightened their burden in some way. These people who we, his 8 grandchildren and 10 great grandchildren didn't know from a hole in the wall, knew every single one of us. "You're the one getting married aren't you?" "How is life in old DC these days?" " What are you going to do with a degree in Theology?""You've got his smile you know." And then it hit me.

We are his greatest story.

He loved more than anything else to talk about his children and grandchildren and he did so with love and pride in his voice. We can relive his life in our memories and his stories but more than anything in our blood, in our spirit as a family and in our connection with him in the body of Christ as our father. Our lives, our whole history and our whole future is the story of his life of love and fruitfulness.
I keep a picture of him next to my computer that was taken not long before he died. He's sitting in his rocking chair playing his accordian with a look on his face like he's about to tell a good one.
I miss him so much. Being so far from home detaches me from the grief somewhat but the moments when I think of him sting and the moments when I think of going home this summer remind me that he wont be sitting in his rocking chair when I drive down our street.
I wanted so badly to have that one story that contained all of him so that I could have him with me always. But you know what?

I have his smile.