Dan Clark

Our condolences to the Clark family.

I'm so sorry to learn of my beloved cousin Bob's passing. I'm sure my dad, Ken Clark, welcomed him into Heaven with open arms and a cool beer waiting at a kitchen table. I can see them chatting away about the Good Old Days.
My heart goes out to Phyllis, Dan, Kathy and Pat for your loss. Bob was one in a million. May his soul rest in eternal peace and his memory be eternal.
Love and Big Hugs, Sheila

Loss is a strange thing to explain. It settles differently in each of us, shaping itself into quiet corners we didn´t know existed-like the sight of the empty chair our loved one once claimed. That particular spot still waits, patient as ever, for the return of someone whose presence will never again fit seamlessly into every worn groove of its fabric. It still clings, almost greedily, to the fading whisper of aftershave that once wrapped warmly around the person who sat there. Loss is an emotion both heavy and hollow, a weight and an absence all at once. It washes over us in a deluge of memories-flooding out every other thought while amplifying the pounding of hearts we were sure had stopped when we first heard the news.
Loss hurts. It can stir up anger or the aching echoes of old wounds. It may force us to reopen doors we thought were long closed. But sometimes-if we are lucky-loss also grants us perspective. Those old slights soften. Those faded hurts shift under a kinder light. Loss doesn´t have to be only pain. It can bring healing, too. It can unearth treasures tucked away in the deepest parts of us: memories so pure and unspoiled they make us smile through the darkness.
With my Grandpa, those memories come quickly. I can still hear the electrical hum of the model train, still feel the thrill when my brother and I were told we could push the big red button to blow the whistle. What child can resist a big red button? I remember spending the night and Grandpa announcing that we would make pizza-together. I remember the warm crackle of the fireplace he´d offer to light, the stories read while I nestled into the crook of his arm, and the familiar scent of Old Spice, Newports, and an after-dinner martini that somehow warmed me more deeply than the dancing flames.
Yes, loss can be cruel. No one truly prepares for its bite. But it also reminds us of the times before-the times filled only with joy. Times when Grandpa would pull out the old projector and show Godzilla or Mothman movies, or patiently answer a million questions from one of my boys about the fish in his pond, or proudly show them the latest car in his collection. Loss brings back the lessons he taught and the traditions he passed on-proof that no one is ever really gone.
I see pieces of him every day: in the way Liam lights up over a new watch, in Patrick and Aidan´s endless conversations about fish, in Ian´s enthusiasm for cars. I hear him when I drive past the old house on Clifford and point out the pine tree he planted, or the carport he built. I think of the dime set in the back porch cement-how my brother and I spent whole afternoons scheming to pry it loose. I even smile at the memory of the motorcycle Grandma never approved of. These small things-these stories, these echoes-are the ways my Grandpa lives on. They´re threads of him woven into our lives, surfacing only because his loss made space for them to rise again.
And while memories can never replace the person we´ve lost, they remind us of a life lived well-and encourage us to do the same. They remind us to love those still here. To cherish every moment we´re given. To say what matters while we can.
I will miss my Grandpa deeply. But I´m comforted knowing how completely he loved me. He told me every time we talked or visited-but he never needed to. I felt it in his smile, his hugs, and his joyful, "Hiya, Sarah!" every time he saw me. I´m grateful knowing how dearly he loved my boys, and that they were privileged to share so many years with their great-grandfather.
My heart aches for my Grandma, my mom, and my Uncle Pat. But I am lifted by the knowledge that we will celebrate Grandpa´s life together-and that his memory will continue to draw us closer. And that would make Grandpa very happy.

May your memories of the wonderful times you shared with your loved one comfort you and your family, today and always.