dipping eggs

I definitely feel like I've written a fare share about what I loved about my Grandpa.

There is just this one last entry to do of the memorial we had a couple of weeks ago for him. It seems fitting since today is the anniversary of his passing. I was so grateful to be with my dad when he read the news.

Later that night we were at their apartment in Jo'burg when a storm rolled in. With the lights out we hung around the window watching one of the greatest lightening storms I have ever seen when the building across the street was struck. We all jumped back from the window and felt the energy from the bolt on our skin. The thunder was incredible. We joked about it afterwards that Grandpa had to be pulling some strings to scare us all a little.Before the service started we got word that my Uncle Randy wasn't going to be there in time to read the obituary as planned. Not thinking about how hard it might be I told my dad I would read it. Glancing over those sweet words my dad wrote about his dad pushed me to my limits and I started taking pictures of these two characters to distract myself. We are a family of bawl babies.
Grandma and Grandpa came to stay while my parents were in Jerusalem when I was 3. All I wanted was dipping eggs. No one knew what the heck that meant. Grandpa was determined {or possibly just fed up?} and learned that dipping eggs were actually just eggs over easy with toast. There is story from another summer where he patiently spoon feed eggs to a baby sparrow I caught. I love my Grandpa for his tender heart.
We all felt like something was missing as we spent time at the house. Grandma sits in Grandpa's chair now and no one was there to wave goodbye from the window as we left.

So very cool to know he is in a good place and that in a couple of months we'll be in the Seoul temple to do his work, as well as his siblings.