It's been one week

since Grandpa passed away.

Last Sunday morning my mom and I got to the care home around 8:15 AM. I held Grandpa's hand while Mom and I visited. A while later I reread the cards from our family to Grandpa. Then I shared some of the notes from members in his church congregation as part of a birthday surprise sent last November. I was touched by their love for him, and by the great impact he had made on so many through a life so well lived.

His breathing had continued to slow down and become more irregular. And then suddenly I looked at him and saw his color change.

I whispered, "Mom, I think he's going."

She rose from her chair across the room and drew close to his bedside with me, stroking his remaining hair while I held his hand. We told him again how much we loved him.

Mom requested, "Say hi to Grandma for me, and tell Kathy how much I miss talking to her." Mom's younger and only sister Kathy died about a year and a half ago of cancer.

We reminded him yet again of our love, as if he could doubt it, and watched as he took his last breaths and the pulse in his neck weakened and then ceased.

Time of death: 9:25 AM.

I continued to hold his hand as we waited for Uncle John, Mom's only brother, who was on his way. A very long fifteen minutes later he took a turn by the bedside to say his goodbyes. Though Grandpa's spirit had left his 95 year old body, I know his spirit remained until John had come. John has been an ever faithful son and brother and I would be thrilled if Max grew to be like him in showing such pure love and care for his family.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. The hospice nurse came to pronounce. Two of Grandpa's dearest friends and his Bishop came to the care home. We reminisced about Grandpa's amazing life, and his tremendous Christ-like qualities. The mortician, who had known Grandpa for decades, arrived to lovingly take his body away.


I flew home Monday to be with the children and began preparations for a return trip to California, Thursday-Saturday, so Mr. Bloomers and I could gather with family and friends for Grandpa's funeral on Friday.

I was one of the speakers. Just as I have put off this post, I put off writing the talk until the middle of the night before the funeral. I finally got to bed somewhere between 4:30 and 5 AM Chicago time. I think somehow I wanted to believe that if I didn't write about Grandpa's death, that it wouldn't be real.


Grandpa has been the rock of our family for 95 years. He made us all feel like we were his favorite. He reached out in love and took a genuine interest in all people: family, friends, and strangers. He accepted and loved us for who we were, but yet encouraged us to be better and empowered us to believe that we could be.


Grandpa lived his life as a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I know better what it would be like to be in the presence of my Savior and feel of his love, because I know how Grandpa loved me.

And I know he still does.

Though my heart aches knowing that I can never again call his home and hear his cheerful and enthusiastic greeting, I am filled with joy to know that his mother and father finally have their eight children gathered with them again, that Grandma has her husband of 72 earthly years together, and that Kathy has her parents to be with her.


Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, his resurrection and power over death, and the Priesthood, families can be forever.

This I know and do not doubt, but though this knowledge eases the pain of loss it does not take it away.