I had the great fortune to know my grandaddy throughout three phases of my life.
As a child, I was captivated by his rapt attention and unconditional love; his enthusiasm and sweet nature expressed in "tastes like cinammon" earlobe-nibbles, remembering my favorite Archie comics, and old videotapes of The Little Rascals.
As a teenager, I benefited from the wisdom of his advice, some of which I sought, some of which was not, but which was always readily available and freely given, and most often better headed than not.
And finally as a young man, fresh in the "real world" and adventuring with a newfound sense of independence (even though I had recently moved back in with my parents), I benefited again on account of his open and frank recollections about his own exploits as an adult, and how sometimes it is wiser to swallow your pride than to risk two weeks in a hospital by swallowing a bottle.
Grandaddy demonstrated the power of "till Death do us part" in his later years, showing a deep devotion, love and care for his beloved, sometimes in contrast to his own health. This is a comittment we in the current Western world are seldom exposed to, the power, sincerity and import of which cannot be denied.
As he believed in "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," so too deep in my soul is the belief that he is bound for somewhere greater, somewhere restful, and somewhere good where he may be at peace, a well-earned repose from a life poured into his family, and that he is greeted by our smiling Creator, welcoming him with open arms and whispering, "Home again, home again, jiggity jog."
He had a powerful love for us all, and the man I knew lived with few regrets. I therefore invite you to not to shed your tears, but to celebrate with me the life of Ross Kern.
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