March 16, 2006 was the day I lost someone very dear to me. My grandfather was by far one of the most amazing people I had the honor and pleasure of knowing. Even more so, I am proud to say that I am related to this man.
Growing up, my grandfather was the life of the party, someone everyone loved talking to and always wanted advice from. In the small town where he lived, everyone knew who he was and everyone always knew they could rely on him for any reason. Our family grew closer because of him and my grandmother (aka. the dynamic duo). There was always music when he was around, there was laughter, there was happiness and everyone acted as if they didn't have a care in the world when he was in the room.
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Many of us in the family were inspired by him to learn instruments, such as the piano, clarinet, guitar and trombone. Because of him, I found a love for music that I never thought I was capable of having and I still play to this day with him in the back of my mind. However, I never had the chance to perform for him, actually I hadn't picked out an instrument to play by the time he passed but I know that he would be proud of me for making it such a huge part of my life.
He was always so kind to me, letting me run around like a maniac in the kitchen, he would let me scream and yell for as long as I was able, and he always gave me the best hugs. Granted, he knew how to give a stern talking to whenever he needed to, but he did so out of love, kindness and respect for me and my safety. He taught me about gratitude and never taking anything for granted. He told me to always shoot for the stars and live in a way that made me happy.
Around him, I never once questioned my worth, my talent, my beauty or my purpose. He always had something to say to brighten my spirits and always something to say when I wanted nothing more to give up. He pushed me like he pushed everyone else in our family and we are all in his debt because of that.
When he died from lung cancer, the news was shocking enough and we tried to prepare ourselves for his death. But no one can really be prepared to lose a father, a husband, a grandfather or a best friend. Ten years later, we still think about him, we still remember and laugh about the fun times we had with him. We still cry over him, sometimes without any warning or reason, we just cry. I still miss him and I wish my sisters (ages nine and five) had the chance to know him like I did. I wish they had the chance to hear stories from "back in his day" or listen to his tales about working as a doctor or gave us in the inside scoop about what our own parents were like as kids.
I love and miss my grandfather and it still hurts whenever I think about him, but I'm glad I knew him and I'm more proud to say I am a part of his family. In memory of Jack Furr, thank you for everything you did for us and thank you for always being there when I needed you.
From the entire family, we love you!
