Missing

And the bad news keeps on coming.  One of my classmates was killed Friday night.  I still can’t believe it.  I really didn’t know him all that well and the first time I’d seen him since freshman year of college was last summer at our class reunion, but it’s still such a shock.  Okay, so that’s only four or five years (depending on the semester), but that’s still a long time.  Anyway…It’s hard to imagine a more terrible way to die than being run off the road and watching a loved one die before your eyes.  I don’t know who was shot first, but whoever went second…I don’t think I could handle that.  I guess I just can’t understand what on Earth would possess someone to take two good people’s lives like that.

So I spent the better part of the weekend trying not to think about it.  I didn’t hear about it till Saturday afternoon because apparently I’m too good to watch the news (sarcasm, folks).  That’s the great thing about being from a small town: no matter how far away you move, the rumor mill will track you down and reel your butt back in.  I heard the news from a friend who had heard it from another of our classmates who saw it on the news and then called her dad for more details.  Then of course I called another friend/classmate and she called two more…The group I linked to above had 40 members yesterday, 88 this morning, and 164 the last time I checked.  Bryce was a good guy and I can’t imagine what his family is going through.  My thoughts and prayers are with his family and friends and I can only hope that he is now at peace, in a place where such violence doesn’t exist.  Rest in peace, Bryce.  I’ll see you at that great big class reunion in the sky someday.

And now, a letter.

Dear Bryce,

I just wanted to let you know that the time we walked back to the dorm actually meant a lot to me.  I don’t remember what we said, just that the conversation was a bit stilted, but I suppose that’s just because we didn’t know each other well.  Still, it made me feel better just to talk to someone from home in a place where I didn’t know many people.  I don’t think we talked at the reunion last summer, but I remember you and Travis breaking up the fight and I’m sure that whichever girl you helped (because I don’t remember which one it was anymore) appreciated your assistance.

I always felt like a midget standing next to you because good Lord were you tall!  You were a big guy with a big heart (from what I hear) and I’m sure you’re a fine addition to the heavenly population.  It’s a shame your visit to this world lasted so short a time.

Yours truly,

Kay

Okay, time to think about something a little less depressing.  I’ve actually been thinking about this a lot today, and I still can’t believe that it’s really true.

Hmm…Something pleasant…Only 56 minutes left till magic time!  Woo!  I wanna go home now…

(c) 2008.  All rights reserved.

Are the shades of Pemberly to be thus polluted?

I can hear Judi Dench in my head now.  No one could have played Lady Catherine better.  Judi Dench is absolutely marvelous when she’s being imperious!

I’ve been in rather a Jane Austen kind of mood lately.  If I didn’t have class tonight, I think I would sit down and pop in P&P.  The shorter of the two versions, naturally.  And if I had the mental capacity for it, I’d sit down with the book.  Perhaps I’ll do that this weekend…

In other news, the trees have been absolutely beautiful lately.  I love fall.  There’s this one turn between Grundy and Eldora where you drive through a thicket of trees and the trees are like a patchwork quilt of color.  When you actually come into Eldora you cross over the Iowa River and the trees along the banks are the same way; it’s a patchwork quilt of color.  Lots of browns and golds and reds and oranges, with a little green mixed in to liven things up.  Gorgeous.  Gorgeous, I say, gorgeous!

In other news, it frosted last night.  Hmm, guess I used that opening already.  Oh, well.  Too tired to be terribly clever or original today.  I’ve been up late the last couple of nights.  I really need to get to bed early tonight.  I wonder if Mrs. Hayek is back yet…

I wonder if the fishies realize the futility of swimming near the edge of the tank in hopes of escape…I wonder if the flurries the lousy weatherman was predicting yesterday will arrive…I wonder if I will really eat the better part of the new package of Oreos all by myself…I wonder what would happen if I did…I wonder what will happen next…I wonder…

I wonder if I’ve bored anyone to tears yet?

I wonder if anyone really cares that I am a Jane Austen-obsessed chocoholic.  I saw a Facebook flair the other day that fits me perfectly.  It said: I need books like I need chocolate.  Desperately!  So true.  So, so true.  And so deliciously perfect!

(c) 2008.  All rights reserved.

In Memoriam

The funeral for my grandpa was held this morning.  I was asked to say something at the funeral and the following is what I came up with:

I was asked to speak today because fourteen years and one day ago I gave a similar speech.  I don’t remember what I said; I really don’t even remember giving the speech.  I’m sure I didn’t have anything prepared, that I just winged it when the minister asked if anyone wanted to say anything.  I had fourteen years to spend with my grandpa that I didn’t get to spend with my mom.  You would think, then, that it should be easier to find something to say.  It’s not.

Grandpa was loved and admired by a great many people.  One of the things I always admired about him was his ability to talk to people.  Grandpa could walk up to a complete stranger, someone he had never seen before and would likely never see again, and converse with them as if they’d known each other for twenty years.  I think my mom possessed that ability as well; I don’t seem to have inherited that trait and maybe that’s why I admired Grandpa so for it.

Family was very important to Grandpa.  It seemed like every time we got together, Grandpa’s camera made at least one appearance.  But it wasn’t just Grandpa’s camera; oh no, it would be Grandpa’s camera followed in quick succession by those of Mommy and Aunt Melissa and if it was a really special occasion, by those of Andrea and Lois as well.  I have a complete photographic record of my childhood from birth to age sixteen thanks to Grandpa.  He and Grandma were there for every school function, always with camera in tow, and once the film was developed, Grandma and I went through all the pictures – and it always took forever! – and identified everyone for posterity.

Grandpa was a man of deep faith.  He was a long-time member of the Gideons and I remember getting up early on Saturday mornings to go to prayer breakfast at Cristo’s with Grandpa and Grandma; that was always a treat.  But as James 2:26 tells us, “For as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is dead also.”  Grandpa was not only a man of faith but a man who lived up to James 2:18: “Show me thy faith without thy works and I will show thee my faith by my works.”  Grandpa volunteered for Hospice after my mom passed away, helping countless people deal with the loss of a loved one.  He helped area farmers with planting and harvesting their crops.  Grandpa was never too busy to lend a helping hand or a sympathetic ear.  He counseled me on more than one occasion to turn my problems over to God and He would provide the solution.  One of Grandpa’s favorite verses was from Psalm 46.  Verse 1 states, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”

Grandpa also hung onto John 14:6: “Jesus saith unto him, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.'”  At a time when I had lost my faith, Grandpa encouraged me to seek God and I know that Grandpa has found Him now.

Grandpa was one of the best of men.  He was a loving husband, father, and grandfather, and a true friend.  His life is one worth celebrating and emulating.  I ran across a poem the other day that reminded me of Grandpa.  We, too, will one day pass away as Grandpa has.  Let us all hope that the following can one day be said of us:

Although we loved him dearly,
We could not make him stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
Hard-working hands to rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us
He only takes the best.

(c) 2008.  All rights reserved.