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On this day in 2009, my grandfather passed away. He was the first, and remains the only, close family member I've lost. To consider myself blessed in that regard would be a colossal understatement. To say that the loss was not a difficult one, however, would be a lie.

In one week, I will become a former student of Texas A&M University. If we want to get specific, we're 6 days and 22 hours away. My grandfather, Papa, attended A&M for a time in the early 1950's, and while he graduated from that hippie school in Austin (hisssss), I never saw him cheer against the Ags--even on Thanksgiving. I am proud to be in the fourth generation of Aggies of my family. I wish he could see me walk (or, uh, maybe trip) across the stage, but the fact that he walked the university before me is more than comforting.

It's incredible to see aspects of him sprinkled around my family. The helpful hand went to my aunt. The outdoorsman to my uncles. The quick smile (and stubbornness) to my mom. The love of music to my brother. The eager to laugh to my sister. The high level of intellect to my cousin Haley. The love of family to Holly. The adventurous spirits (and blue eyes) to Lacey and Parker. The tan skin and love of competition to Emily and Caroline. The rough-and-tumble attitude to Morgan (adopted or not, she picked up some things from the old man). The love of books to me. Of course, everyone got a little of everything. Some are more stubborn than others, some with a bit more wanderlust than others.

But in our cores, we know where we came from. We know that this baritone-voiced man who ate all our Cheetos eagerly loved us, constantly cared for our grandmother, and made our parents who they were.

I mean really, he filled up Nanny's car with gas for 50 years because she spilled it on herself one time. He took care of his own.

This passion to serve was a product of the way he served the Lord. I'm in the middle of a pack of 10 grandchildren--8 of them are girls. It would've been easy for me to blend in, to remain unnoticed because I was quiet and didn't draw attention to myself. But every time I saw Papa, he brought me a book or a Land Before Time Movie. He knew Linley.

Birthdays just aren't as fun without that sweet, low voice singing to me. Holidays always lack something without him 1. falling asleep in front of the fire/TV or 2. regaling us with stories. He was the love of my grandmother's life. The standard of man for my cousin and brother to look up to and for my cousins and me to look for. The best kind of father to my mom and aunt and uncles.

He leaves a legacy of love, of the importance of Christ, of the necessity of good food.

I hope to follow suit.

In honor of Jesse Don Lyles, September 19, 1933--May 9, 2009.