Dear Papa,

The last words I said to you were, "I'll see you later. I love you." When I told you this, I was about to go out of the country for 10 days, and I knew that it might be our last words since you were very sick. I kept it simple, and so did you with your response of, "You too."

That's one of the biggest lessons I learned from you over the past 21 years. Keep things simple. You were a simple man, which is a huge compliment, because you were always happy and content with whatever you had. You loved your family, your cars, your garden, your God and your animals.

Another thing I learned from you is the importance of and the power of silence. You didn't speak very often, but when you did everyone knew they had better listen. When you did speak, you chose your words carefully and made sure you were saying something that was worth saying.

So many people in this world just talk without even thinking, and just talk to hear themselves talk. You were not one of those people. I don't think it was that you were shy, I think it was that you only wanted to choose your words with care and say the important stuff. I try to be like you in this way every day. I am shy, but from you I learned the importance of just listening and thinking before I speak.

God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason. You knew this and you were quiet for a reason, and we all loved and appreciated this about you.

You were also so funny. About half the time you did choose to speak, something hilarious was coming out of your mouth, making everyone around you smile and laugh.

I will never forget what a hard worker you were. Until your body just wouldn't let you anymore, you always found something to work on, whether it was fixing a car or truck, cutting grass, building something, or feeding the animals. I will always remember you as a hardworking man, and you worked hard all your life to provide for your family.

Also Papa, you were so brave. You were the first person to ever ride in a car with me. When I was about 14, you would let me drive around the yard in your red truck. You were the first person to teach me how to drive, and that was extremely brave.

I owe my love of filet Mignon to you, too. I remember so many weekends I spent the night with you and my grandmother when I was little, and you would grill steaks for us. Always filet Mignon. Back then I didn't know the difference, but you always made sure I got the best and most tender pieces. I will never eat another filet without thinking of you.

Although it hurts so bad to think about the fact that you won't get to see me graduate college, get married, or have kids of my own, I know that you're up there in Heaven watching over me every single day. You will always be here in my heart.

I want you to know that even though I miss you so much, I refuse to be sad. I am celebrating because I know you're up there in Heaven having a ball, and that you aren't suffering anymore. That makes me so happy.

Your last days on Earth were full of mostly pain and suffering, but now I know you are healthy, strong and with Jesus.

No more pain, suffering, or tears.

And even though I miss you now, I have peace in knowing that one day I will see you again in Heaven, and our whole family will be together again. I can't wait for that day, and I know you will hold things down up there until we get there.

I have already felt so much peace since you left us. I know you're up there with Jesus watching over all of us. Whether it's a bird chirping or a beautiful sunset, God keeps reminding me that you're up there with Him.

I'll see you later. I love you.

-Your Granddaughter