Stan. Dad. Grandad. Grandad GREAT.

Even if I had the time to sit and write about it, I'd be putting off reliving receiving the news that my Grandad, my dear sweet Grandad had passed into the next life.

Only a week after the kids and I flew back to Las Vegas, I got word that Grandad was in hospital and not doing well. I'd seen his health decline but didn't think (or perhaps didn't want to think) that it would be the last time I saw and spoke with him. We'd had the opportunity (for which I am forever grateful) to go over several times and visit with Grandma and Grandad and watch my brother sweetly fumble his way through what might have been Grandad's last haircut - he had a gorgeous head of hair, right up until the end. My siblings were SO thoughtful and sensitive to me living far away and were constantly Snapchatting and Skyping with me while they visited him and made feel involved. I got to speak to him via Skype a few days before he died and while he was still "with it." My sister moved the camera over so Grandad and I could see eachother and though he lay very still and his mind seemed to be drifting elsewhere, when he saw me on the screen his face lit up. It's a look I'll never forget and a moment I'll cherish. He actually exclaimed, "Michelle!" which ended up being one of the last clear things he'd say. I got to tell him "I love you" one more time - heaven bless technology. And heaven bless my sweet family for spending so much time with him in the hospital, visiting, singing, grooming and bringing him as much comfort as they could.

He passed peacefully in his sleep on June 18th, with Grandma there beside him. My sister called me soon after - I'd been expecting it, but it shocked me at the same time. The funeral was set for Monday, June 23rd and Brandon and I decided that I should go. Even though he passed away only 2 weeks after we'd gotten home, I owed it to my Grandad to be there. He wouldn't have expected it of me and neither did any of my family, but it was important to me that I be there - this man sacrificed a lot for our family. And where I go, Mason goes, so we booked our flights.

We arrived on Saturday, the 21st, having been told that the funeral would be Monday or Tuesday. It ended up being Monday, which worked out best for our family coming from England on Sunday. Three of Grandad's sons - David (& Pam), Tony (& Anne) and Stuart (& son Peter), flew in from England and while the reason was unpleasant, it was lovely to see them since we don't see eachother for years at a time. So we got together with the family on Sunday to plan. My Grandad is a Salvationist and not a Latter-day Saint, but was incredibly supportive of my Grandma and we held the funeral at the LDS chapel, conducting by our bishop, but included hymns that our churches shared and that he was familiar with - it isn't too often you hear "Onward, Christian Soldiers" at a funeral, but it felt right. Bless Grandma's heart, she asked me to play the organ and for "the kids" to sing. We practiced for hours, trying our best not to break down while we choked out "Nearer, My God to Thee."

My family and I spent the evening looking through old photos and creating two posters of my Grandad. There were so many pictures I hadn't seen before and it was so neat to see sides of Grandad I'd never seen before. Like the photo he took with Uncle Steve when he graduated - Steve being the scholar and Grandad being the dunce.

I think they turned out really nice, and Grandma ended up sealing them in place and keeping them at her house, which I think is perfect. Isn't he the most handsome Grandad you've ever seen?

His day came and we reported to the church early so I could practice playing the organ through tears, attend the viewing to say our final goodbyes and greet people. I walked past the kitchen to see Relief Society sisters chopping and peeling and preparing and my heart nearly burst. One of the common functions of the Relief Society is to help provide lunches at funerals and it's one responsibility I never appreciated until I was on the receiving end of their kindness. I was on my way back from seeing my Grandad's body for the first time and I took two steps into the kitchen to thank the sisters that were there and exploded into tears. I was immediately wrapped in Sister Barter's arms and felt the reality of our promise at baptism to "bear one another's burdens, that they may be light...mourn with those that mourn, yea and comfort those that stand in need of comfort" (Mosiah 18: 9-10). It was a wonderful testimony to me and I'm grateful to those sisters that were honoring their covenant that day.

The service was beautiful. There were as many smiles as tears, as funny memories were shared and testimonies of life after death were borne. Even though he wasn't a member of our church, the knowledge that he can and will be baptized and through the temple receive every blessing available to us here on earth is an incredible comfort. My siblings and I managed to make it through a heartfelt rendition of "Nearer, my God to Thee" by holding hands and staring straight forward, avoiding the gaze of anyone that might cry and send us spiraling into heaving sobs. My uncle spoke and very cleverly remembered my Grandad by giving him middle names. He wasn't given any at birth, so my uncle filled in the gaps with Stanley "Selfless" "Stoic" "Steadfast" Senter. He really was all those things and it was a lovely tribute to a great man. He told a story I hadn't known, that when Grandad was a little boy, he was saving his money for a bike and his dad came home drunk and stole it. He never drank as a result and hearing the story was simultaneously sad for him and proud of him and remembered that he quit smoking at my mum's request once I was born. 

A beautiful poem was read, that puts death into perspective and brought me peace upon hearing it:

The Ship
By Bishop Brent

A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says She is gone.

Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large now as when I last saw her. Her diminished size and total loss from my sight is in me, not in her.

And just at that moment, when someone at my side says she is gone, there are others who are watching her coming over their horizon and other voices take up a glad shout – There she comes!

That is what dying is. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.

Later, Grandma told me that poem was on a condolence card the missionaries had given to her when her father died as she was investigating the church. It was one that brought her great comfort and she wanted it read for Grandad. That warmed my heart.

I sat next to my brother, my brother who only has sisters and is unlucky enough to be uncomfortable around crying women. I cried quietly throughout the service, but lost it when Uncle Steve spoke of Grandad's love for the little ones and how sweetly he played with them - both my siblings and I when we were little and now my children. Kristina's sister & brother in law, Karla and Bruce offered to hold Mason for me during the service and I was SO grateful for their kindness, as I was able to listen and focus. Bless their hearts. He did look very handsome in his little suit (minus the clip-on tie I had to nix because his neck was too thick to button his shirt) but it was so wonderful of them to take care of him for me. 

It was a good thing he wasn't with me - I was a mess, so my Mum reached over the pew in a sweet attempt to comfort me. The time came for me to play the recessional as the casket was wheeled out of the chapel and the pallbearers followed and I played "God Be With You Til We Meet Again" with tears streaming down my face and audible gasps between phrases. Looking back, I'm sure I made people uncomfortable, but it hit me very hard that I'd never see my Grandad in this life again. My dear Auntie Heather came up after I'd played it through long enough for a few people to exit, gave me a much needed hug and kindly told me that no one expected me to keep playing and that I should come and be with the family. I'd watched the casket as long as I could without making too many mistakes as it was wheeled out of the room, but missed Grandad being loaded into the hearse. I stepped out of the doors to see the hearse driving away and the first person I saw was my Uncle David, Grandad's oldest. And he has never looked more like him. He saw that I was a complete and utter mess and extended his arms out to me and I ran into them and stayed there for a while. It was a really tender moment, considering we aren't all that close! He told me he was really moved and would never forget it. 

It was nice to have the rest of the day and most of the next to spend with our extended family from England. We were all able to relax a little bit once the formalities had been addressed and they had fun stories to share. We watched videos of my Grandad being interviewed at Toyota (he worked there for years and was loved by all he worked with) by Rod Hull & his puppet Emu, teaching them how to operate a forklift of all things.

We went back to Grandma and Grandad's apartment at Steve and Heather's house and it hit me harder than I expected to walk in and not see my Grandad in his spot and have him greet me with an "Allo, Lovey" and a kiss. For as long as I can remember, he's been occupying the same seat on the couch, watching Coronation Street, Cops or hockey. To see his seat empty made my eyes well with tears (yes, again!) and my heart sink. I think of my Grandma being all alone in the apartment when everyone goes home and it hurt. I know it's a bit of a relief for her, since she was taking care of him while she was in poor health herself but of course she will miss him. My sister sent me a video of her singing "their song" to him during his last days and it chokes me up every time. I made a tribute video with their song "And I Love You So" by Perry Como and took some liberties to include Skylar Grey's "I'm Coming Home" and lost weight I cried so much during the process. Even though I only saw him once a year and as those years went by, he would answer the telephone long enough to figure out who I was and pass the phone on to Grandma after a brief exchange I will miss him every day, just knowing he isn't here anymore.

My Grandad was amazing. Being the oldest, I have so many fond memories of him. He took us on holidays when I was little - Jamaica of all places! He taught me to drive - which also tells you he was brave. One of my favourite things (now - not growing up) about Grandad was that he never settled for a kiss on the cheek. As are many other grandads, mine is a lip kisser. My sister sent me the cutest video of them when he was hospitalized last year of her posing for a picture of her kissing Grandad on the cheek. Faster than I've ever seen a man of 84 move, he turned his head and caught her on the lips. What a wily minx. I managed to take a screenshot of their faces immediately after and it always warms my heart to see.

He always made a fuss of me and the kids when we visited and we loved him. Teagan calls he and my Grandma, quite simply, "Great" and it's so fitting. I will always be grateful that we decided to make our annual visit so much earlier than usual and got to see him one more time and have him meet Mason. It isn't much, but we have a few photos of them together and I will always cherish them. Digging through old photos, I'm embarrassed that I don't have more of Grandad. I took him for granted and thought he was timeless and would always be there, so didn't think to take many photos. Lesson learned.

I changed the lyrics to "Puff the Magic Dragon" (which may seem an odd choice, but at the time Daniel had memorized the guitar chords) for his 80th birthday to "Stan the Perfect Grandad." I wish I could remember the verses - I know they mentioned quirks like his love for Coronation Street, the cocktail of pills he had to down each day and his affinity for lip kisses.

Stan, the perfect Grandad

Just turned eighty, 

And loves to be surrounded by

His crazy family.

Stan, the perfect Grandad,

We'd just like to say,

We love you and we think you're grand

In every single way!

He really was the perfect Grandad and I'll miss him so.

To add insult to injury, my trip back to Las Vegas was an absolute nightmare. Battling traffic only to have my flight cancelled, then rebooked the next day, driving in the wee hours to have a flight inexplicably delayed almost 5 hours with a  newly rolling 7 month old in tow. Fortunately, all my tears had been cried, so I just had to deal with it and keep a stiff upper lip just as my kind, handsome, selfless, stoic, steadfast Grandad would have. Families are forever, and I love mine!