"This is a story about God."

Today, God welcomed home my grandfather.

I can't say much more until it becomes real -- only that I'm functioning much better than I imagined I would on this day, and no practice drill quite prepares us for the real thing. Today, for my son and my dad, I hurt more than for anyone else.

The rest of us had our time with the force of nature we called Paw Paw. We might have liked more, but we got what we got. And we got plenty. A good measure...
My dad and my son, they're the ones who seem they might still have lingering business with the pater familias. My dad (arguably) has the most to lose with the end of his father/son relationship, and my son (arguably, again, and not to discount the other male cousins) has the most to gain from more time spent with his eldest, strongest-willed male relative.

I worry for them both, the gray haired 50-something and the red-haired toddler-something. But I worry a little less after hearing Miles in the next room this afternoon.

As soon as we came home from school, he asked for cartoons. Too spent to do anything else, I nodded OK. He turned on PBS and found a documentary about ancient Egypt. The images moved from the Valley of the Kings to Mt Sinai and St. Catherine's monastery to the rock city of Petra in Jordan.

I was surprised that Miles watched this; I expected him to protest the landscapes and demand animation. But he actually liked it. He hunkered down, silkie in mouth and La-Z-Boy in full rock, while he puzzled out what he was watching. At first he muttered through the security blanket so that I couldn't understand him. Then I clearly heard,

"Oh, I get it! This is a story about GOD."

I'm not sure what he was referring to, specifically. But I'm not sure he was wrong. All amazing creations in this world bear the stamp of the Creator, do they not? All His people sure do. My grandfather, James Arthur, did. And that is what makes today, truly, a story about God. A story of what God did in one long life, well lived, and what he has done, today, to make that life His very own.

I like to think Paw Paw is running in Heaven. One arm tucked tight to keep a pigskin safe, the other extended against the lesser athletes who were never really in the chase, anyway.

I hope he has wind behind him. Wind and late-afternoon sun and a yielding stretch of grass. Godspeed to the Galloping Goon. I love you, Paw Paw!