Not Goodbye. Just See You Soon.

On Friday my Papa Bud took a turn for the worse.

His blood tests revealed that he had an infection and this was what had been causing his confusion. He was rushed to our local hospital.

On Saturday we received the news that his kidneys were in the final stages of renal failure.

Our hopes were to bring him home and allow hospice to care for him.

Today we have realized that will not happen. His situation is too critical for transport. He will die at Forsyth Hospital where 35 years ago next week ---I was born.

I have spent most of the last 72 hours by his bedside. Crying, laughing and loving on him along with my sister and extended family. What an honor it has been to care for him during his final hours.

My heart has been sadly anticipating this day for a long time now, and yet I feel unprepared for his passing.

His hospital room has been filled with visitors. This was a loved man and is evidenced by the amount of tears that have fallen at his bedside.

I think your success in life cannot be determined by what kind of house you live in or what car you drive but can truly only be measured by tears that fall from the eyes of the people who cling to you while you journey thru death to heavens door. In that regards, my Papa Bud is the most successful man I know.

We will love him, never forget him and one day I pray to rejoin him. I love you Papa Bud!

I heard this song Saturday night after I left the hospital---it will be played at his funeral.

Heaven's Bright Shore
Out on the hills of glory land
So happy and free at God's right hand
They tell of a place of marvelous grace
On heaven's bright shore
Pilgrims on earth someday will go
To live in that home forever more
Trusting in Him who died for sin,
And rose from the grave

On heaven's bright shore (on heaven's bright shore),
There's gonna be no more dyin' (over there)
Not one little grave (not one little grave),
In all that fair land (that wonderful land).
Not even a tear will dim the eye,
And no one up there will say goodbye
Just singing His praise through endless days
On Heaven's bright shore (on heaven's bright shore)

When I must cross that rolling tide,
There'll be someone on the other side
Welcoming me to that fair land, made perfect by love
When I walk up the milky white way,
I'll see that home coming in a ray
How great it must be for angels to see
A pilgrim reach home

On heaven's bright shore (on heaven's bright shore),
There's gonna be no more dyin' (over there)
Not one little grave (not one little grave),
In all that fair land (that wonderful land)
Not even a tear will dim the eye,
And no one up there will say goodbye
Just singing His praise through endless days
On Heaven's bright shore

Just singing His praise through endless days

Update: My Grandfather, Harley Gentry Roper finished his earthly race on Wednesday, August 5th 2009. I am sure he was greeted with applause from many loved ones who journeyed before him and was told by our Creator, "Well done, good and faithful servant--Come and share your Master's blessings!"

Dear Papa--I miss you so much. Walking into your house yesterday was the first time I had been there since Friday and its the first time I had to accept the fact that you would not be in your chair.

I wouldn't be able to kiss the top of your head as I entered the door. Your glasses were on the table but will never again touch your sweet face as you drink your morning coffee and read your newspaper.

Mama Jo had your favorite candy --the peanut butter bars in a bag on the bar and I took a few to keep.

I'm not prepared. I'm not ready to tell you goodbye. Who's #1 am I now?

Thank you for loving me so much. No one has loved me or understood me like you. Our bond will transcend time. I will carry you within my heart for as long as I live. I will tell stories about you to my great grandchildren one day. Your memory will live on. I will take you with me everywhere I go until we are together again. I know we will be together again. That is the only thing that will get us all through this.

I love you my dear sweet Papa Bud.

Always your #1---

Trinity---your little chainsaw.