What Remains

I know it's pretty rare that I share some deep things here on this blog, but I was struck with such a simple thing yesterday, that I felt the need to share. 
I was outside yesterday, cleaning my truck, and enjoying the fall weather.  I've had my Red Ranger since I was 16.  My parents bought it for me from my grandmother after my grandfather passed away when I was 15.  My grandfather loved that little red truck and kept it in pristine condition.  Pretty much everything in my grandfather's possession was kept in pristine condition.  He was so organized and intelligent and knew the value in hard work and taking care of what you had.   I strive to be like him in that respect, and hope he genetically passed down to me not just his love for reading, but his love for being responsible and respectful of not just things, but in his relationships with people as well. 
I still remember the last time I heard his laugh.  It was a couple of weeks before he passed away, I was 15, as mentioned earlier, and was learning to drive a stick shift.  I reenacted a rather hilarious scene involving me, an ornery stick shift truck of my dad's, and an eventful trip down our driveway.  I think I was even pretty accurate in my sounds that poor truck made in my rendition of the events.  Even though I'm sure he physically felt horrible, he still laughed at my preteen dramatics, and that warmed my heart.  When I think about that day, and his laugh, I miss him so much it hurts. 
So today while I was washing my truck, I noticed to my dismay, that the remnants of his Georgia "G" logo that he put on the back window of that truck all those years ago was washing away with each swipe of my towel.  I'm not going to lie, I got a couple of tears in my eyes when I saw that happening.  He was always such a huge Georgia fan, and I knew it would have made him proud to see me graduate from his favorite University.  As I washed away the last few flakes of white logo yesterday, I noticed a peculiar thing happening as the window was drying.  Although the physical logo was gone, the water was parting around a permanent G left in the reflection of the window. 

(Please excuse my white legs)

 I don't know if it was leftover adhesive, or a just a fading in the window tinting, but regardless, it got me thinking.  Aren't our lives supposed to be that way?  When we leave this earth, our physical bodies or emblems might be gone, but we should strive to leave a permanent mark like that.  I know it probably sounds like a cliche analogy, but in that moment I had a flood of memories of my grandfather.  Of the lessons he taught me and the love I felt for him.  So forevermore, that G will stand for my Grandaddy.  For a Godly, gracious, giving man who left an impression on the lives of everyone around him.  And I pray every day that my life will leave a permanent mark, that I will imprint those around me with Godly traits and memories of kindness and love.