The rest of the trip went by in a blur. My memory and thinking skills were clouded by grief and disbelief. My aunt Stacey and I joined my mom for lunch, and a family bond that had been shattered by divorce so many years before, mended almost completely within that hour at the lunch table, while my aunt and I shared a plate of beef liver in front of my squeamish mom. I, like so many others, broke down sobbing when I saw my grandpa in his casket for the first time at the Wake. Guys in my family who boasted about being tough, masculine men who never cried, leaned on my grandpa's casket as rivers of tears streamed down their cheeks. 

The pain forced us to grow even closer together as a family than ever before, and we spent several hours at a tavern for dinner, telling classic family stories about my grandpa over hot wings and hot dogs. That night, my cousin Taylor and her fiance, Charles, joined me in the living room of the old farmhouse for the night. I had the couch while they slept on a mattress on the floor. The upstairs was too dilapidated for anyone to sleep up there comfortably. I was just glad that I didn't have to spend another night alone in the eerie farmhouse. I struggled to sleep the night before, because I felt like I was being watched the whole night. While I knew it was just in my head, the feeling never left me. But with Taylor and Charles on the floor right next to me, I was able to quickly and easily fall into a deep, dreamless sleep that night, even though I still felt like someone was watching me. 

The next morning, I found myself walking with just my aunt and my grandma, into the old Trinity Lutheran church just across the road from the farm. We were the first people to arrive, besides the pastor and undertakers. I helped by setting up a few pictures in the front foyer of the church, so when everyone else flooded in for the funeral, they could pause to stare at the pictures of my grandpa once again. 

Up a set of stairs and next to the archway into the main church room, was my grandpa's casket with a beautiful bouquet placed on top of the casket. By then, I was in the numbing stages of grief, so I managed to control my emotions when I approached the casket with my aunt to help her open it. Soon after, people began to flood into the church. Almost everyone that attended my grandpa's funeral were at the wake, but those who came to the funeral were those who knew my grandpa very well, rather than just people who vaguely knew him. Still, every pew, including the pews up in the loft, and several in the overflow room, was filled. We estimated about 300 people were at my grandpa's funeral. 

The funeral service was honestly one of the best church services I've ever attended. The pastor knew my grandparents when they were newlyweds, though he was only a young teen when my grandparents got married. So, he knew what to preach about and how to talk about my grandpa to celebrate his life and allow us to mourn. When it came time to sing a few of my grandpa's hymns, I got chills while all 300 people sang at the top of their lungs. I've never been a good singer, so I kept quiet while I listened in awe at everyone's voices. First, they sang Amazing Grace, and after several more hymns, they finished off with an extended version of my grandpa's favorite hymn God be With You. 

I finally lost control over my emotions towards the end of the final hymn, and my tears lasted until my grandpa's casket was lowered all the way down into the grave. I was supposed to be a casket bearer, but I just couldn't find the strength to help my older cousins carry it, so I let my cousin Taylor take my place. But, as sad as that funeral was, my cousin Kellen threw his arm across my shoulders and reminded me that grandpa was in a much better place, and like my grandpa's favorite hymn promised, I'd eventually be reunited with him again. 

Together we walked back into the church, and followed the crowd into the basement where lunch was being served. I wasn't hungry, so I only took one roast beef sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate, and sat down between Kellen and my dad, while they told more stories about my grandpa and their childhoods. There, I managed to take a deep breath, and my emotions slowly subsided while I listened to my dad and my cousin share light-hearted stories from their childhoods. 

Back at the farm, while grandma and my aunt arranged the 50 or so bouquets flowers they were gifted by funeral attendees in the living room, I took some time to wander around the farm to clear my head. It was a bright, sunny day. There was a cool breeze blowing in from the south that gently rustled the trees. The birds were singing much louder than usual. I felt as though that was God's way of reminding me that grandpa was ok. The cattle in the pasture were pretty active. They grazed in the pasture while they kept an eye on their calves, which played around wildly around them. Everything was the same on the farm, though without my grandpa there, it felt painfully empty. 

I decided to sit down on the concrete foundation of one of the grain bins just to take everything in. I managed to relax and replace my feelings of depression and grief with a great sense of peace, which washed over me seemingly out of the blue. Several minutes later, I heard my name being called from the farmhouse. It sounded like a man's voice, though I couldn't put my finger on it. It sounded remarkably like my grandpa's, but it wasn't slurred or gravelly like his was. I sort of sat there, dazed, looking in the direction of the farmhouse which I could not see past the granary, when the same voice called my name again. This time, I couldn't resist it. I got up and trotted up to the house where there was no one. 

I headed up the concrete stairs to the side door into the kitchen, and just as I was reaching to open it, my grandma opened it and beckoned me inside saying, "I was just about to call ya! Lunch is ready!"

"Was someone just out here calling for me?" I asked, "I swear I heard someone calling for me, which is why I came back."

My grandma had a slight puzzled look on her face, but then smiled and said, "Not anyone around here. Everyone's been inside the whole time. But, lunch has been ready for awhile and it's getting cold! Grandpa didn't like it when lunch got cold!"

I knew what she was implying, but I wasn't sure how to take it. It certainly irked my atheist side. I just shook my head and got myself a plate to fill. 

That evening, after having dinner at the bar, which was paid for by my grandpa (he set aside about $600 so everyone could enjoy a few free beers alongside a free meal), my dad drove me back to Lake City where my mom was staying. I had a 7:30 AM flight to catch the next morning, and my mom didn't want to drive 10 miles out of her way to get me from grandma's at 4 in the morning. On the way there, my dad almost hit a wild turkey and then a deer on the same stretch of road, about a half-mile away from the church grandpa was just buried at. We both thought it was strange, since wildlife rarely cross that stretch of road, let alone across 3 other busy lanes to get to ours. But, we didn't think too deeply into it, and continued the rest of our journey. 

Once in the hotel room with my mom, I took a long, much-needed shower and let myself let out the last of my emotions while I stood under the steaming hot water. It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest, and in some ways, it really had been. After that, I got dressed in my most comfortable pair of PJs, and passed out in bed for the night while my mom did some work on her laptop. 

The flight home was easy, and since it was such an early flight, I landed in Denver at about 8:30 AM, Denver time. I had an entire day to kill, but I was honestly exhausted and still lost in the fog of grief. I landed back home on a Friday, so I had an entire weekend to recover before returning back to my routine on Monday. My mom decided it would be best to send me to Clarke's house that weekend, where I could relax in the country and get my mind off the hard things I was going through. 

Clarke picked me up shortly after Mom and I got home from the airport. I didn't have to worry about packing anything up. I just took my bags that went with me to Minnesota to Clarke's.