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My grandpa Woodward passed away this past week, and I had the blessing of being able to make it out for his funeral (thanks to Nate for holding down the fort, his employer for giving him a little time off, and to the Loves for getting me out there on standby flights).  During the week leading up to it, and the time I spent there, two things kept coming to my mind:  “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die." (D&C 42:45)… and something my grandma always says, "Aren't families just wonderful!"  

My grandpa was a wonderful man.  It was so neat to hear stories about him that I hadn't heard at the funeral and as I talked with relatives.  So many people were blessed by his life.  The memory I shared at his funeral was this:  

If you ever met Grandpa, you would never forget it.  He would certainly tell you a story – about someone he knew, someone he told about the Book of  Mormon, someone he met, something from his days on the basketball court or on the front lines of Korea.  I have listened to these stories since I was a kid – spinning on grandpa’s living room chairs (that have been repaired more than once, probably because of my spinning), sitting in the kitchen, or taking to him on the phone from my house in Minnesota.  The older I’ve become, the more I appreciate these stories, and every time I listened to Grandpa, I would want him to talk forever.  Now, whenever I tell a good story, or strike up a conversation with someone I don’t know, and talk for a while, my husband looks at me and says, “You’re definitely a Woodward!” and I smile, thinking of Grandpa and feeling happy to be like such a great man in some small way.