Our Ralph

Dear Papaw,
As I write this, you are still present in your body. Its not the strong body I remember. Your words aren't as loud as they used to be. Your smile is still present, but it doesn't hail that hearty laugh anymore.
You are close to being hand in hand with your Savior. I'm excited for you to see him. I imagine that after he hugs you and slaps your back that he will turn to the Father and say, "Ralph is home!"
To tell you the truth, what I'm really excited for is that you will see yourself as God sees you. I always got the impression that you saw yourself as little. For example, if one of us grandchildren told you how great you are compared to the other Papaws in the world, you would do some sort of snort and slightly shake your head. I don't think you cowered in insecurity. I just think you understood that your life was a vapor.
But I imagine that when Jesus is greeting you, that your relatives will be standing there too. As well, maybe several of your friends and people that you've lead these 77 long years. The gathered crowd will be buzzing, as they chatter to each other how good it is to see you--how each of them are connected to you. And I can almost hear Jesus asking for everyone to be quiet. "Everyone. Let me have your attention. Everyone." Then he'll put his arm around your shoulders and squeeze you in to him. "This is my Ralph. To the world he may not have been much. Global history may not record the details of his life. But to me...he was mighty. Though he be but little, he is fierce."

Papaw, countless pages will be filled with our affections for you. For now, just know that I love you.

Richard
(proud that your blood runs through my veins)