I have memories of my great-grandmother Blanche.  I think I do.  They very well may be from seeing the pictures after she was gone and I was much older.  Nonetheless, those pictures are very dear to me.  They tell me the stories my mind can’t quite recall but I am so happy to have had.  She was there and loved me.  Those that love you along the way make a mark whether you know it in pictures or your mind’s eye.

Our trek up to Rhode Island was for time with a few loved people.  And among those people, Pappy probably will hold the dearest memory for us.  He’s Pappy to his great-grandchildren (my kids), Grampy to his grandchildren (my husband), Dad to his children (my  mother in law) and The Man to Nana.

I’m not sure my kids will remember this trip.  I bet Tee will, faintly.  However, they will have these images to look back on and remember the hugs, the play time, sitting at his feet during his nightly cross word puzzle and simply spending precious days with their Pappy.  We went to celebrate life together.  I want them to know they were loved by their Pappy.  And I know they will.  How they sure do love him.

Pappy has terminal cancer and his days to meeting Jesus are coming to an end.  While reality is severe, we are thankful for the face to face time and to love on one another.  Pappy is going to meet the author of that love very soon and that my children know Pappy loves Jesus is just the greatest legacy a great-grandpa could ever pass on.

to get caught up:

Those Bucks, a bridge and Auntie B: part one of our trip

Meeting Karis: Our trip part 2

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