Empty Spaces

My grandfather, Howard George Jasperson, died on the morning of December 26, 2007. He was a loving and caring man. He was man with a tremendously generous heart. He will be sorely missed.

The past two weeks have been rough emotionally, physically, and mentally. I have been exhausted by the contemplation of mortality. I was charged with the task of writing my grandfather's obituary and addressing the throng at his funeral with words that somehow were to be a brief summation of this man's character. I did the same for my grandmother when she left this world. In both cases I have been lauded by those who both knew my grandparents and heard my words. I hope they have taken some solace in them. However, I am not completely certain whether, for me, this process has been cathartic. Everyday presents new challenges in filling the empty space left behind.

As I have had the opportunity to reflect on his life, his accomplishments, and his family, I can't help but wonder whether he knew it was time. He had spent the last three days of his life amongst his family, whom he loved with all his heart. Those days were filled with the conversation he loved, filled with his endearing laugh, and an unforced congeniality that set him at ease. I think he knew we would be alright. I think he knew that he had shepherded his family through times good and bad. I think he knew he had taught us values that would endure, that his legacy was secure. We will always love him, for he taught us how to love.