Until We Meet Again

I was fortunate enough to grow up very close to my grandparents - both in physical distance, and in my relationship with them. So when I got the call last Sunday that my sweet grandpa had passed away, my mind immediately started to fill with thoughts of him and memories that we had shared together. I have continued to have these thoughts and recollections every day since then. However, when I was given the opportunity to say something about my grandpa at his burial on Monday, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my emotions in check long enough to speak without falling apart - let alone form any of my memories and feelings into a coherent thought. So despite how many things I could have said, and how much I wanted to pay my respects in that way, I opted out of saying anything. Since then, I have decided that I really would like to share some of my memories and express my feelings about my grandpa, if for no other reason than it feeling therapeutic for me as I cope with his absence. I have always felt more comfortable with writing than with public speaking, so despite my keyboard being blurry from the tears in my eyes, I think that blogging will be the easiest way for me to do this.

My grandpa, Keith Keller Crane, was an incredible man. I so enjoyed listening to friends and family talk about their relationships and interactions with him at his funeral on Monday; and learning more and more about the type of person that he was. He impacted so many people in his lifetime, and had a way of making everyone feel important and loved. From his military service, to his mission, to his family, friends, and neighbors, he touched a lot of people's lives - and mine was definitely one of them. I will forever be grateful to my parents for moving us back to Burley, Idaho, because it allowed me the blessing of having my grandparents be a prominent presence in my childhood. I am lucky to have memories of my grandpa in every setting at every stage of my life. Here are a few things that I remember....

I remember 4-wheeler and motorcycle rides with all of the kids piled on and holding tight. I remember picking cherries, and how impressed he always seemed to be with how many buckets we were able to fill. I remember tumbling rocks and learning about arrowheads. I remember how crafty he was with fixing things in his shop - and how I would play with magnets or the rubber mallet while he worked on actual projects. I remember him constantly trying to convince me that "el nice-o" was real Spanish for when you thought something was nice. I remember him teaching me how to say things in Danish like the tricky code phrase "red porridge with cream on" or how to count to ten. I remember his loud, joyful laugh. I remember spending lots of time at the table with him, eating all of our favorite Grandma treats. I remember him acting upset when Grandma would give me some of "his" ice cream. I remember him being at every birthday party, and always leading the singing of "Happy Birthday" with both arms waving in the air. I remember how impressed he would be anytime I played him a song on the piano - followed by him trying to impress me by playing his famous rendition of "What a funny mule, walking into school." I remember catching squirrels and scaring birds out of the fruit trees. I remember his bone-crushing handshakes that I would always squeal and try to wriggle out of. I remember how much he loved Grandma. I remember the day he came to show his Indian artifacts to my first-grade class, and how proud I was to tell everyone that he was my grandpa. I remember watching picture slides while sitting on the pool table in the basement. I remember his countless stories, and the way I hung to every word - even when I had heard the story a hundred times before. I remember his big hugs and big smiles. I remember him always telling me that I was beautiful, and being proud of me for everything that I did.

I remember the day that I found out about his stroke, and how naively optimistic I had been that he would be out of the hospital and back to life as usual in a week or two. I remember the first time I visited him after his stroke and that optimism quickly fading. I remember crying when I realized that I would never hear him be able to speak clearly enough to tell a story again. I remember feeling heartbroken that my future husband and children would never know him the way that I did. I remember the way that he stayed loving and optimistic despite being unable to communicate clearly or take care of himself. I remember him lighting up every time I went to visit him. I remember the day he almost came back to himself while talking to Grandma on the phone, and spoke more clearly than he had in months. I remember somehow being able to understand what he was trying to say despite him not being able to say actual words. I remember laughing until I was crying at his 90th birthday party when he couldn't finish his food, and then marveled at the way Mitch kept going back for more.  I remember holding his hand and kissing his cheek and always praying that it wouldn't be the last time. I remember how frustrated he was with his situation and how desperately he wanted to move on. I remember learning that he had passed away and feeling so happy for him, despite how sad I was for myself. I remember driving home that night and once again thinking of my future children and how they would miss out on ever knowing my wonderful grandpa. I remember in that instant, having the clearest realization that he was with them now. I remember feeling that he was being introduced to my children at that very moment, and that he was bragging about me to them just like he always seemed to be doing while he was here. I remember the incredible comfort that brought me, and the new appreciation for the Plan of Salvation that I gained that night.

I will forever be grateful for my grandpa and the influence that he was on my life. He always made me feel important and special, and supported me in everything that I did. He taught me so much and I know that I owe so much of who I am today to him. I will also be forever grateful to know that when we say goodbye on earth, we are not saying goodbye forever. I know that I will see my grandpa again soon, and that he will be so much happier and healthier than he was the last time I saw him. He will greet me with a big smile and a big hug, and then will sit me down to tell me, once again, what it was like to be a missionary in Denmark or a serviceman in WWII. I can't wait for that day!

I love you Grandpa.

"In light of what we know about our eternal destiny, is it any wonder that whenever we face the bitter endings of life, they seem unacceptable to us? There seems to be something inside of us that resists endings. Why is this? Because we are made of the stuff of eternity. We are eternal beings, children of the Almighty God, whose name is Endless and who promises eternal blessings without number. Endings are not our destiny. The more we learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ, the more we realize that endings here in mortality are not endings at all. They are merely interruptions - temporary pauses that one day will seem small compared to the eternal joy awaiting the faithful. How grateful I am to my Heavenly Father that in His plan there are no true endings, only everlasting beginnings."

-Dieter F Uchtdorf