Ninety Three Years.

Today, the sun rose on the family farm just like it had for 93 years but this time, it was different. The wire that held the same fence posts in place, the briskness in the air felt exactly the same on my face as it always did, but this time it burned memories into my cheeks, and he wasn’t there. The hay was put up, the fields were neatly tilled for the winter but they held no sign of his plow or the hands that guided them.

This morning dawned a new day on the home place and nothing will ever be the same, because yesterday we buried the man that started it all, the one that began this legacy all those many years ago and we will never forget him.

For 93 years he plowed these fields and breathed this air and this is the reason my childhood was so rich. This is the reason I have a heritage.

The sun may rise and the cycles of life go on, but I will never forget this place or the man that made my life possible. His name was ‘Daudy’ Raber and this was his farm, this is where our family began.

His hands may rest and his feet no longer walk these fields, but his footprints remain, his smile forever etched into our hearts and our memories, because he was my Grandpa, one of the greatest gifts that God had ever given me

and that will never change.

Rest in peace, sweet Daudy Raber. I miss you already ♥️

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