THEY say,,,

THEY, say "It comes in threes...."

Who the hell is THEY and how do THEY know????

I guess it doesn't matter who THEY are- because THEY were right. Damnit.

Strike #3 came Friday morning as the kids and I were headed East of the mountains to visit my family in central Idaho- the first time back since my mom had passed the week before Christmas.

My plan was that the kids and I were going to make a stop in Lewiston like I always do to see Nana & Papa and then then I'd head up to the Prairie and stay with dad and help with some things there at the house.

The kids and I had stopped in Ellensburg for a pit-stop and a coffee when the call came that my handsome and sweet grandpa has passed away in his sleep just a couple of hours before. I just stood in the middle of the coffee shop and cried- tears streaming down my cheeks- the kids wrapped their arms around me and we cried quietly together. (poor ladies at the coffee shop didn't know what to say...)

After we somewhat dried our tears, we climbed back into the car - to drive the long drive -- under duress again. I realized that I owe my kids a trip over the mountains that doesn't include someone dying..... Once we got there-my girls were so good and so patient- this was not the trip they signed up for, that's for sure. There were plenty of tears and phone calls and arrangements to be made and flood of people coming with gifts of sympathy.

I found myself looking at old photos- a lot this past weekend... I come by this shutterbug gene quite naturally- and I'm so grateful that I have memories- on film- a record of the lives of my loved ones. (in a moment of feel sorry for myself- i thought this is it? my history comes down to a box of photos? but then.... I was glad- it is fitting that I examine their lives and relive it through photos, huh?)

I was reminded of riding on the combine with Papa as a little girl, trips to Dwarschak Dam to fish on the Lyla Jane, snowcat rides and sledding, snow drift igloos and Easter Egg hunts at the homeplace. On a rare occasion- you could get him to play the piano and sing a tune- and it was good........Visits to Yuma and Northern Mexico- cheecharonis, spicy ketchup, bbq's the fancy motorhome/bus that he built from square one, his margaritas, his laugh- his monkey bites.... the way that he always spun his Mason's ring when he's sit and tell stories.....

He was such a kind and generous and God knows- patient man.....(he'd have to be with a wife, three daughters, two grand-daughters and 3 great grand-daughters! Thank goodness the grandsons and great grandsons were all boy- he was sure proud of all of them!)

He was friend to agriculture and he loved the outdoors- an avid hunter and fisherman- the camping trips and stories were always a good time. Our planet is down one beautiful human being this week. I will miss you so Papa.

http://www.lmtribune.com/story/obituaries/506781/