It has been ten years since I last saw your shuffled walk supported by your cane, that shiny bald head, that glint in your eyes.
Ten years since we last teamed up to work together, restoring your father-in-laws radio which I proudly display to this day.
It's been ten years since you left us that day, how time has gotten away.
Ten years since your bride said goodbye, with a tear in her eye, after 56 years by your side.
A Christmas that I will never forget, as you went home to be with your Father.
A Christmas that saw more tears of sorrow than tears of joy.
Yet we knew that your suffering was through.
Your weary journey through this life had come to an end, and you could be at peace.
No more would you save me from Grandma when I got in trouble.
No more would I work with you in the garage.
A chapter had ended; time to turn the page.
How many pages have turned in these 10 years? I've lost count.
I'll never forget that cold December day, when you were laid in that grave.
And we would see you no more.
Although we wept tears of sorrow for ourselves, we should have been weeping tears of joy, as you were at home that day with our Lord.
In loving memory of my Granddad, John Everett Robertson Jr., who passed away on this day 10 years ago, December 20, 1999.
He taught me more than he would ever know; the value of working hard for what you want, appreciating what you have, showing me that family was more important than money. He could fix anything in his house, because when you raised a family on a tight income, you learned to do it yourself; a life lesson that I have carried over into my own home.
May God bless you all this Sunday.