My heart aches. I lost my sweet Grandpa this week. What a shock. I grew up living less than a mile away from him. I have cried more this week than I think I have in the last five years combined. He went quickly and unexpectedly.
My grandpa loved to hunt and fish and loved Fish Lake where he spent lots of time at his cabin with his dear wife. He loved his grand kids and always gave the best hugs. I worked on his farm growing up and he taught me so many lessons. I loved how he treated me, and he always made me feel like I was his “best” worker. (I’m sure that is how all of us felt). He taught me how to change sprinklers…oh those mornings were soooo early! I worked on the farm until I graduated from High School. I remember him driving up to me in his white Ford truck with a huge smile on his face to tell me good job for having straight rows while I was cutting alfalfa with a swather. He even trusted me with his newest swather, and I was so proud that he would let me drive such an expensive piece of machinery.
When I was little, my fellow cousins and I used to search for flint out in the fields surrounding his house, but unbeknown to us, after we had gone home, he would throw all the flint back into the field for us to find the next time we came flint hunting. He didn’t want us to stop coming to hunt for it, I guess.
He was an avid BYU fan and loved all sports. He especially loved basketball where he coached for 17 years.
He has a large posterity and every single direct grandchild will be at the funeral. He and his wife had 7 children, so you can imagine how many of us there will be.