The Rest of Them Mourn Grandpa

The rest of them mourn grandpa’s death in a sad way. My dog Shep and I honor him on this cool fall day. The others walk around crying, moaning he is gone. Shep and I head for the lake, the one we used to fish on. Grandpa is here with us, I can feel him in the moon. We sit side by side, Shep and I, in silent commune. Grandpa winks from the stars, the lake and the trees. I shiver a bit as he sends us a reassuring brisk breeze. Grandpa was special, a character, I adored him so. I did not want him to leave, but it was time for him to go. I am so glad you are out of pain, I tell him. God smiles at us. You were such a great grandpa, I tell him. I love you, Gus! Should we camp here? I ask Shep, and we curl down and around. We lie down in our tiny tent, feeling safe on the hard Kansas ground. Grandpa is here for sure, I can smell his tobacco and I feel his soul. I know he is safely in heaven; the ultimate goal.