My Hero

A man I never ever thought would leave this world passed away early Saturday morning.
My Grandpa is and always has been my Hero. He is one of the kindest most gentle man I have ever known.
Going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house has always been such a treat. When I was younger I would run in the door and look for grandpa, as soon as he saw me he would ask “how’s my girl” and let me climb up on his lap. He always made me feel special and pretty.
Grandma would scold him when he put extra sugar on my cereal, but I would always quietly ask him to put the sugar on and hope grandma didn’t notice.
I feel so blessed that I was able to talk to my sweet grandpa in the hospital before he said goodbye for the last time. The first visit I had with him on Friday was so amazing, I walked in, grabbed his hand got close to his face and told him how much I love him. He told me that I am such a pretty girl and that he loves me.
Later that night as we gathered together he took the time to talk to each one of us there. He is so kind and so concerned with all of us. He told me that he was sorry that he didn’t get over to get my carpet fixed. For reals, do you get any more amazing than that? He has always shown genuine concern and love for me and my little family.
I loved all of the chances I had to talk with my grandpa, all the times he showed me how much he loves and respects my grandma, All the times he quietly bore his testimony of the gospel without me even realizing, and more importantly how he lived what he believed. I love that he was willing to give priesthood blessings whenever I asked him, any time I needed them.
I remember being a little kid playing at their house and I would look up and Grandpa would be smootching his sweetheart, at the time I thought it was so goofy that my grandma and grandpa were kissing. Now that I am older, I am so thankful for his example of love and devotion to his sweet wife.
There has never been a sweeter love story written than that of Grandma and Grandpa. They met because he got her number off a wall, got married, grew a family, loved, exemplified goodness, and in the end wispered “I’ll see you soon”
I love my grandpa so much, I didn’t realize you could hurt this much from missing someone so much. He has been my greatest hero, he has made me feel loved when I felt unloveable. He made me feel important when I felt umbelievably invisible, He loved me even when I didn’t love myself.

Because of him I knew that my husband would have to worthily hold the priesthood, and would have to treat me like a princess. And when I did find that guy, grandpa welcomed him into the family and treated him kindly.
He has been so amazing with my little kiddles, he loves them, and they love him. He plays with them and teaches them, and just cares for them. What an amazing grandpa.

During this last week while sitting at grandma’s house I couldn’t help but feel like any minute he would come walking down the stairs to check out what the girls were doing. Or I would find him sitting away from the group having a quiet conversation with my Rob. And I just want him back for just a few minutes, to hold his strong hands and look into those loving eyes.

I miss him. More than I ever knew I could. And never have I felt so strongly the desire to live worthy to be with my family for all eternity. I know he’s waiting for all of us, surely busily passing time keeping busy with missionary work on the other side.
I know I will see him again, and I know that day will be glorious. Until then I want to be better, I want to love more, I want to be kinder to those I meet, because I know grandpa would have it that way.

What an amazing person that I have been so blessed to call Grandpa, I love him so very much.

Filed under: Uncategorized | Posted By: Heather @ 8:27 pm - July 18th, 2008 |


I was once called Chicken Soup. To me it felt devastating, just a little bit.
You know that scene in My Best Friend’s Wedding where Julia Roberts is telling Cameron Diaz that she will never be Jell-O and that her husband to be likes Jell-O?
Yeah well I have tried hard not to be Jell-o or Chicken Noodle Soup, but haven’t succeeded apparently.
What should I have against chicken noodle soup? It’s warm, it’s comforting, and it’s subtle. Why should I not want to be compared to that?
Because it’s boring.
I lived too long being the boring sister. The one that was left behind because I was so boring and dull and not exciting in the least.
So I thought if I changed that, I could change my whole being. I could step out of the shadows and into the foreground of excitement. I thought for sure it would bring happiness. Hmmm…..it didn’t.

And now, again, I feel a little resentment after having read something that has nothing to do with me, yet I feel attacked. Why? Why should it matter?
I know the life experiences that have gotten me to this very spot have made me far stronger than the author of the afore mentioned article.

Yet I am irritated that everyone around this person can be made to feel diminished because this person’s yearning to be more important than I.
Sometimes indulging in the things that make us most happy at the time will bring nothing to our eternal fortunes. Sometimes when we are made to feel like chicken soup for traveling the “easy, boring road” its infuriating.

Infuriating that the many tears and heartaches that come along with the “safe” road are never apparent. Because we don’t shout them from the rooftops. We merely say a tearful prayer for help and trudge along.

We don’t climb to the top of a mountain to find a new understanding. And then proclaim it to the world for all to hear. We fall down on our knees and beg and plead for help. And then we quietly get to our feet and go to work.

That might be too chicken soup for some. But I know that it’s certainly not the easy road.

I know that when I look into my baby’s eyes, no one is more important than I in her little world. When I scoop up my three year old and hold him while he is flailing and screaming and ranting, that I indeed am not choosing what would make me happy at that moment. When I rehash the same discussion over and over again with my five year old because she saw so and so wearing a tank top outside, I’m certainly not choosing the easy path.

Because sometimes being happy means stepping outside of yourself for one minute. Sometimes being self indulgent is great until you look around and the only person you have is yourself. Sometimes being important in the world means nothing in the eternities.

And sometimes pushing everyone away for the sake of being melancholy is childish.

Chicken soup might be safe and comforting and wholesome. And maybe that’s what we should all strive to reach. But just as you don’t want to be made to feel inferior for choosing the self absorbed route, don’t minimize what I do day in and day out because you don’t think that I am living life to the fullest.

Filed under: Uncategorized | Posted By: Heather @ 8:26 pm - July 2nd, 2008 |