I took out a lot of personal text from me to him but left a lot of memories and thanks in...Just to give a picture of who Dad was: ...But we have Heaven. A story about a love between a father and his daughter. About Dad's journey to Heaven... The grandchildren said goodbye. Hugs and kisses for Opa. Elianah's normally smiley, crescent moon eyes compassionately and connectedly, with an understanding beyond her years welled up with tears as she saw him in his chair, now very still, very quiet. Aramiah's eyes typically bright and creatively seeing potential and possibilities, reservedly said hello and goodbye and quietly retreated to the other room unsure of what would unfold when. Or maybe she was sure and protecting her heart. Mason (almost 7), full of vibrant energy and seemingly optimistically stated, “Bye Opa, see you later.” Desiring to help, Isaiah, gentle and emanating love, laid a hand on Opa-- once on his arm, once on his leg and said, “Love you, Opa, bye-bye. How did he know at only 21 months? Did he hear the other kids or did he just know? Bella (14 months) waved gently and smiled her sweet smile. Elle and Miah (almost 6) laid precious hands on Opa to pray for him multiple times in the last 9 months. Isaiah had laid his head on Opa's leg in those initial months of illness. He somehow knew that this once strong man had an ailment that now kept him from connecting as they would want. Opa had previously been able to lift, hug and rock all the grand kids. He often read to them, several on a lap at one time. Sometimes he would kick a ball with them or chase them on their big wheels. He would even more often take long walks and hikes with them. Opa even had the opportunity to watch 10-month-old Isaiah as we took the girls to the Nutcracker. As Isaiah woke crying from a nap, Opa rocked him peacefully as Isaiah lovingly played with Opa's face. This was their first bond. The girls' first bonds had been created years before as he rocked them each to sleep as infants. Opa and Grami were at our home daily to help with the new duty of twin-raising. The girls found comfort as they laid chest to chest on their big, strong, warm Opa. They all adored him. “GRAMI... OPAAA!!” they would all call each time we pulled in the driveway, a near daily occurrence. It was as if they hadn't seen them in months. They always felt very loved by their grandparents. And that was obvious. Opa would hide “treasures” of coins in the sand box and the older kids would eagerly search as if it were real gold (to this day I think they may believe it is). Opa was a deep and integral part of his grandchildren's lives. The girls were fortunate to see him almost daily. All the kids would hear me lovingly refer to him as “Dad” and in their first few years tried on that name for him until that turned to Abba, then Opa. Even my own girls had a few turns at being his hairdresser just as I did as a child. Isaiah had a special last Opa memory as we headed to a Bible study and left the kids sleeping at Grami & Opa's house. Little did we know we didn't have the cell phone on and Isaiah woke up during the World Series 2010. After a few attempts to return him to sleep, Grami decided she didn't want to miss the game and brought 20-month-old Isaiah in to watch the game. He was SO excited to be introduced to TV AND baseball. He sat on Grami's lap beside Opa putting Opa's protein bars in and out of a cup repeatedly, loving the crinkling sound and mostly the special attention. “Baseball, baseball!” He and Opa and Grami watched the SF Giants win World Series. One week and one day after Opa's passing, I was putting Isaiah down for a nap and he pointed to the chair in which we normally rock. “Opa.”, he said... “Opa, cuddle!” Was he remembering when he was 10-months-old in a different chair, in a different house? Was Opa cuddling with him, with our Lord? Again, 1 week and 1 day to the hour after Opa passed, as I was getting things in the other room, Isaiah was staring beyond the ceiling. “Baseball...baseball... baseball... Opa, Opa...Opa, baseball.... sky, sky.” Was Opa playing ball in Heaven? “Where is Opa?” I asked, curious to know the depth of his grasp of the whereabouts of his adored Grandfather. He replied, “ Heaven....Heaven... Heaven, Heaven, Heaven, Heaven.....Heaven...” “Who is Opa with?” I questioned further. “God...Jesus!” he stated matter-of-factly. Wow...Just Wow. It is incredible how closely kids know the Father's Love at such a young age. I think he has always understood as I think all the kids understand in a way that we don't realize. The girls drew nearly innumerable pictures and cards filled with hearts and huge smiles to warm Opa's heart as we visited him most every day in the local care-taking facilities. They were very patient,very brave, very strong and compassionate little souls. On the way back from Opa's first surgery, Miah was silently pensive and Elle was silently sobbing. They were feeling the change in the man who had once been a strong presence in their lives, who had once held their small hands in his. In Opa's last hurrah of lifting them before his operation, he lifted Isaiah high in the sky and tenderly gave hugs to each of them. He was even giving hugs and little pats on the cheeks in the last days when he was barely able to lean over. Even after his surgery Opa lifted Elle on to his lap when he sensed she really, really needed it. He always wanted them to know they were loved. In regards to relating to me, Dad described himself as like the horse whisperer. While I was going through various stages as an adolescent and young adult, Dad never gave up loving me and being there for me whenever, however I needed him. He did this even to the point where once I yelled at him (projecting my hurts from elsewhere onto this wonderful father who had done nothing but provided stability, compassion, and opportunity) and he still he received me with the most calm face imaginable and quietly responded, “You can yell at me as much as you want but I will always love you.” Another example of this whisperer ability was when Miah, for a brief period as an infant, shied away from males other than her father. Opa again practiced his “baby whisperer” ability and she quickly warmed up to him. Opa also always had a special way of calming Elle out of her fits, telling her how important and special she is, validating her right to feel whatever she was experiencing at the time. He truly felt this about each and every grandchild...He said he remembered that his mother told him he could be anything he wanted to be. He wanted his grandchildren to know the same thing and have the opportunities that allows that. Opa genuinely felt that each grandchild was the most unique miracle of a being, possessing all the potential in a God-given healthy body and mind. All of them: Mason, Aramiah, Elianah, Isaiah, and Isabella are full of the inquisitiveness that he also had, full of compassion that he also had, full of wisdom and intelligence like him, full of gentleness like him... Opa was sure to let them know they were loved. Opa used to tell a story about how he jumped out of the moving car as a child because he thought he could fly like superman. He made a success out of his life by believing he could do anything. To his grand kids, his “tremendous success” (his last words as he referred to us all) I believe he would impart this quality. “Children's children are a crown to the aged and parents are the pride of their children.” Proverbs 17:6 Dad, you provided an unwavering role model. You selflessly provided me with ample opportunity. You represented a strong pillar that I could depend on, grow from, lean on, run back to, and spring off of. You were always there for me, you will never change. You will always be there for me in spirit. I look forward to the day of being reunited with you and running into your arms, me as your daughter and you as my big strong daddy that I remember. I never questioned whether you loved me or believed in me. I always knew and still know that you love me unconditionally. You believe in me unconditionally. You have provided for me unconditionally. All without expecting anything in return. You were devoted to family even to the point of jumping in the water, losing your own sandal for our new puppy Freida. You took us to baseball games in Greenville, Atlanta, San Francisco. You were always prepared-- for earthquakes, emergencies, you name it, but not for this. cancer. You were as rare as a lightning strike, but so was the cancer and you gave it the good-old Dutch fight. You are amazing, Dad. You were always on the cutting edge of health, always taking the best care of yourself-- healthy food, exercise. You taught me what to expect of a gentleman when you taught me how to dance at Ediso island. You gave me the love of camping in wilderness. I remember rainy nights, having to switch to a cabin, camping at the beach during a storm, hiking waterfalls. These are all the same things I now enjoy with my own family (only without the storms this time). I got to see you playing with my own kids in the pool similar to how you used to throw Sean and me in the air as kids. I went out two days later to pick out our Christmas tree because I wanted you there with us – I wanted my kids to have the same fond memory of their big strong daddy cutting down their own tree in the warm sunshine on a cold, beautiful, family day. I'm so glad my girls got to be thrown up in the air in the pool like I did by you . I'm so glad the girls got to play with your hair the way I did. I'm so glad the girls got to hear you read to them like you did for me. I'm so glad the girls got to carve pumpkins in your presence like Sean and I did. You, even as a grandfather, could pick out the most favorite toys, as evidenced by the girls' twinkling two-year-old eyes as they saw the twin dolls that you picked out for them. You taught me how to throw a softball-- you made me feel like I was the best thrower, ever. You bravely rode in the car with me around the parking lot in Clemson as I learned to drive. You let me study and travel overseas before even you had the same opportunity to visit all the places you desired. You were so selfless and generous. You provided for Sean and me a college education without us having to balance work with studies; you wanted every opportunity for us to reach our fullest potential and you enabled that. You stayed calm when I called to tell you the pipes in your new house burst from the frost. You said you were reminded on your way home of what was truly important in life. You felt you had been prepared by it. I remember when I made that homemade display box for all your medals and awards. I couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to display that for everyone to see, but what you were most proud of was us. I fondly remember how proudly you would introduce us to your coworkers. I remember the Christmas parties for your work. I always felt like the princess at a kings' ball. Wow, my dad is important! Wow, I'm special because I'm his daughter! You were my example -- WE ARE special because we are children of the most High King! You wanted me to live to my fullest potential. “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being there for me. Our children will know who you are. They will know what a wonderful man you were. I will tell them to tell their children and so on. Your legacy lives on...Thank you for the many great qualities, traits, and characteristics that will be passed from one generation to the next. I wish you could have lived as long you wished “to see Isaiah graduate from college”. I wish you could have at least lived to play with him the game for which you gave him a love... But we have Heaven. There is baseball in the sky, apparently. I love that you looked out over your family and said, “tremendous success”. Your eyes and smile looked so bright as you greeted me for the last time. I miss you, dad... But we have Heaven. We have the Lord. I wish I had more time with you, dad. But we have Heaven. No more tears, no more pain, no more sorrow. You stayed by my side, figuratively and literally, and I was by yours.