The blog silence ends to honour the memory of my beloved grandfather Ankong Papa...
And what we had just celebrated over the weekend - this story of an empty grave - waits to be put into practice. Because believe it - the Resurrection means that this news is not supposed to be sad, but part of our Heavenly Father's perfect plan.
But of course, this side of eternity, it's so hard to understand, to grapple with the fact that we won't see Ankong Papa the next time we visit the Philippines, that there will be no new pictures, no more phone calls or Facetime, no birthday cards that somehow get mailed so they arrive exactly on the day.
And so this week is full of tears and grief, as we try our hardest to cry less and celebrate the life of our dearly loved father and grandfather.
Many girls remember their grandfather for many different things. I've spent most of my life half a world away from my grandfather, and growing up, I often thought I had few memories with him.
Yet as of late, and as I scanned photo after photo after photo this week, I've realized how thankful I should be for the many fond memories of Ankong Papa that I will have to cherish.
|One of our last photos together, during our most recent trip to the Philippines.|
I'll remember an avid basketball fan.
I'll remember the little kid he was, deep down inside:
|Looking back on pictures made me realize what a great smile Ankong Papa had. :)|
I'll remember the screaming-loud phone calls my dad had with him because of the combination of terrible long distance and Ankong's hearing problems. ;)
I'll remember him as pretty much the only reason why I understand Chinese.
I'll remember our language-barriered conversations. 'Cause it should work since I understand Chinese and he understands English, but somehow that theory never worked in practice. Ha. [And so I'm so very thankful that the next time we talk, we'll speak the same language. :)]
I'll remember his crazy sharp memory.
I'll remember him by birthday cards I've kept from when I turned 7 and 8 [because, as I just found out as my dad, aunts and uncles are sorting through some of his things, I inherited my pack-rat-ness from Ankong Papa. ;)] and my Chinese name [which I should really learn how to write!].
I'll remember Ankong Papa's quiet simplicity and steady peacefulness.
But I know that while he'll be dearly missed, one of Jesus' greatest gifts to us was that I won't have to miss Ankong Papa forever.
And so - I am deeply thankful.