Rest in peace..

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the

LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
-Deuteronomy 31:6

December 6, 2011 is another day, burned into my mind.. I will never forget the strange phone calls Andrew recieved from my mother. I won't forget sitting in the kitchen with my sisters waiting for my mom to get home, wondering all the while what was going on. As soon as my mother came around the corner into the kitchen, I looked at her and said "Who died?" Her lip quivered and tears began to fall as she said one word: "Papa." My grandfather, and my mother's father, had died early on the morning of December 6 in his bed at home, in his sleep. He was 76.

In 10 days, I lost my baby, my job, and my grandfather.. I'd never been so angry and hurt in my life. I was very close to my grandfather.. We shared a passion for photography, and a way with remembering numbers. My family and I flew cross-country to California the very next day. I've never been so UNexcited for a trip in my life.

Thursday, December 8, 2011 was the very last time I ever laid eyes on him. Our family chose to have him cremated, so it was a private viewing held by the crematorium. There was eight of us who went.. He looked exactly as I remembered him, and I am thankful for that. We stood there for what felt like forever, all hugging each other. Gradually, everyone left, until it was my aunt and I standing there.. I kissed my left hand, and softly touched his forehead for the very last time, and I told him I loved him. Later that night, I was asked to speak at his memorial service two days later. I've included a copy of my speech below:

"My name is Mallory, and I am the eldest daughter of Mary Ellen. I’d like to start off with a verse from the book of Psalms. Psalms chapter 127, verses 3-5 say: “Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb, a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.” I wish I could put into words how appropriate this particular verse is. Papa was one of the most loving people I have ever known. A lot of what I have learned about love has been from him and my grandmother. My papa was so proud of his family, especially of his grandchildren. It would always make me smile when I would hear my mom or an aunt or uncle tell me how he would tell the nurses at the hospital about “HIS firefighter.” My grandfather’s pride in me is part of what pushed me, every day, to finish my paramedic course, to have courage when facing fears as a firefighter. In fact, he bragged about all of us, to anyone who would listen. For example, Andrea shares Papa’s passion for music. Tiffany, Tracy, and Andrea all have impressive height. Abby is a dedicated tumbler and Papa was so impressed by her back handsprings and flips. All four of Vincent’s children have beautiful vocal talents, and of course,  Papa was so proud of the birth of his first great-grandchild: beautiful baby Tressa. Anyone who knew him knows that he was good at talking people’s ears off. But anyone who knew him also knows that he wanted to make sure he was caught up on everyone’s news. He loved to catch up on us and our lives.

One recent memory of Papa that I have was the day I graduated high school. Nana and Papa had flown to Indiana for the occasion. They had gotten seats front-row in the handicapped section, as it was easier on them than walking up the bleachers. After they called my name and given me my diploma, I walked down off the stage. As I walked to my seat, I heard “Mally! Mally!” being yelled at me. I looked to my left to see Nana and Papa both smiling and waving frantically at me to get my attention. I felt so proud of myself to see them so happy for me. However, my favorite memory has to be the last conversation I held with my grandfather on his 76^th birthday. I had called to tell him to tell him happy birthday. He told me he was feeling so much better, and that he had finished his chemo and radiation a few weeks before, and that we were just waiting for his next x-ray. He asked me about my life, and how my firefighting was going, and how my boyfriend, Andrew was doing. We talked for a long while, going back and forth about life. In hindsight, I am beyond thankful that we had that talk. He told me he loved me very much, and that him and Nana were very proud of me. I remember chuckling and saying I loved him too. His passing was such a shock for us all, and I feel blessed and very lucky that God allowed me to have a happy, proper goodbye with my Papa, even if I didn’t know at the time that it would be my last. I will miss him every day, for the rest of my life. But it does my heart good to know that he’s no longer suffering, and is looking down on each of us. Just as he was proud of us, I think I can speak for my cousins when I say that I am proud to have been his grandchild. Thank you."

My great-uncle Vernon came up to me following the service to tell me that my Papa had sent him picture after picture of me in my uniform. He told me that my grandfather was deeply proud of me, and that he wanted me to know that.

We each got an afghan of my grandmother's and got to take our pick of SEVERAL beanie babies that she had collected over the years. (It was the first time all of her granchildren had been in the same place at the same time ever.) I got several, but I made sure to take every angel I found.. I ended up with three. You may wonder why that is of any significance.. Well, I have two big angel beanies, and one little: Papa, my cousin Jimmy, and my baby. Funny how life works like that..

Tuesday, December 13th, we spread papa's ashes off of the Huntington Beach pier.. it was very peaceful and beautiful. I was so excited when we got to run down to the shore. Squishing the sand between my toes and feeling the cold water cover my feet made me feel like a little kid again. I took the opportunity to draw three hearts in the sand, one for each of my angels. It was even supposed to rain that day, and my angels sent us bright, warm sunshine instead. I feel like after the last 9 days, I can move on. I am still mourning and very sad, but I feel at peace. Must be my angels telling me they're ok. Maybe it's time I listen to them..

Dennis Allen Boyd

October 15, 1935-December 6, 2011

Rest in peace, Papa.