It is the day of Poppa Dean’s funeral. Yesterday, we spent the day in fits and starts at the funeral home, and it was from the mouth of my three-year-old daughter that inspired the good tears.
We were at the casket by ourselves, waiting to say goodbye to Grandma, and Muffet pointed and said, “Poppa Dean is sleeping.”
“We’re saying goodbye, honey,” I said quietly. “Poppa Dean is going to see Jesus.” (This was reinforcement from our conversations earlier in the day.)
Just then, Grandma walked up and hugged us both and said, “Poppa’s in Heaven, Babby.”
Babs hugged Grandma, and then, as she was leaning on Grandma, she looked over at Poppa and waved and whispered, “Bye, Poppa”
Bye, Poppa. We miss you, and we’re glad you’re going to wait for us until we meet again.
