It's early Saturday morning, and I'm sitting on the back porch of my sister's house in Arab, Alabama watching the sun rise. Birds are singing; bright beams of light shine through crimson and orange maple leaves, making them look as if they were ablaze in the autumn sun. My daughter's inside playing with her cousins; I hear the cacophony of their little laughter and the sound of cars on the highway. There is so much life and beauty everywhere I look--and I don't know if I find it comforting or cruel.

You see, I lost my grandfather this week, and my heart is broken.

That's the thing about grief--it doesn't make sense. It's not simple or linear, and I've found its only consistency is its inconsistency. It's real and raw and so, so hard.

My mother called me at 4:38 Tuesday morning to tell me he was gone. It was surreal. I'd always known this day would come, as he'd been sick for many years, and I assumed that when I finally received the news, I'd break down into inconsolable tears.

I didn't. I was just... empty. It was as if I'd been shot with Novocaine by a dart gun--numb and stunned. I hung up the phone, and I thought about something at the station. I drove to work at 4:45 a.m. thinking I'd forgotten to flip a switch that ensures the Kidd Kraddick Morning Show airs. I got to work; things were fine. I drove home and got back into bed--and then I lost it.

I think I've cried more in the past four days than I have in my entire life. It comes in waves. I think I'm fine for a moment, and then I see or hear something that reminds me of him and my heart shatters all over again.

My PawPaw with my sister and I--I think this was 2002, my senior year of high school
My PawPaw with my sister and I--I think this was 2002, my senior year of high school
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My PawPaw was the best man I have ever known, and I say that without hesitation or exaggeration. He was a decorated Marine who served our country with pride during three voluntary tours of duty in Vietnam. He served the Corps for 16 years. He was brilliant, patient, and kind. He began his life in extreme poverty and worked his way to a better life. He traveled the world when he worked in foreign military sales, and worked in information technology and communications at Redstone Arsenal until the time of his retirement.

My PawPaw, holding my daughter on the day she was born
My PawPaw, holding my daughter on the day she was born
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He loved his family, and he loved my grandmother. Theirs was a once-in-a-lifetime, Johnny-and-June kind of love. He adored her. It hurts my heart just trying to describe their love, because nothing I can say or write will do it justice. They shared 46 years of marriage. Their first date was an Alabama and LSU game.

My PawPaw loved Alabama football--I've written about that at length before--and I don't know how I'm going to watch today's game without him.

We laid him to rest yesterday with full military honors from the U.S. Marine Corps. I thought it was beautiful that we were able to plan his funeral on Veteran's Day, as it was the perfect tribute to a man who spent his life serving our country.

I love him, and I miss him so much.

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