A few weeks ago now, my husband said goodbye to his grandfather, Grandpa Tony—Anthony’s namesake.

He passed at the age of 91 in his home in Montana, the place that had long held his heart.

Last summer, Anthony, the boys (Ollie in womb), my in-laws, and I went out to Montana to visit the place where Anthony spent his summers. To be honest, I was nervous about it. What is even in Montana? I’m really not the “roughing it” type of girl and all I could think of was bleak mountains or dreary plains (I had no point of reference, this is just what it conjured).

On top of that, we were packing up our two younger than two toddlers and my increasingly exhausted, pregnant self and boarding a plane. To say I was feeling uneasy would’ve been an understatement.

The plane ride in was miserable. Our saving grace was that the seats in front of us on the relatively small plane was open and Anthony could take one of the two boys up front with him. However, every time either Theo or Noah was with me, they were awake and screaming. Yes, we were definitely those people on the flight.

My suspicions about this not being a “real vacation” were coming true faster than expected.

When we arrived at Anthony’s grandparents’ house, it was just as he had said. He warned that it would be small and old, but it was very small and very old.

When we walked in, though, those weren’t the elements that stood out to me, at least not in the way I thought it would. We walked into warm greetings from family we hadn’t seen in several years. Grandpa Tony was sitting in what what is universally known as “his chair” and Grandma Peggy in hers watching a show. Their respective seats were located on either side of the couch that apparently neither of them ever chose to sit on, though it faced the TV directly. Anthony said that they’d yell across the room to one another about whatever they were watching—both beyond the point of hearing each other well. When anyone asks, “Why don’t they just sit on the couch?” the whole family laughs, “it’s just how they’ve always been.” Seeing it first-hand brought an immediate smile to my face.

The size of the house didn’t feel small, it felt warm and cosy, like a blanket draped over your legs to fend off a fall chill.

We got settled and came down to chat with everyone. Grandma Peggy got up, motioning that it was time for bed and Grandpa Tony escorted her to the basement where their bedroom was located. And this happened every night there after.

I was lucky enough to visit all the prime places in Bozeman and learn all of the traditions around these places. We went to the museum, the mall, walked down main street, went to the neighborhood park, and grabbed breakfast at Grandpa Tony and Grandma Peggy’s favorite spot.

There was something so peaceful about Bozeman. There was an assuredness in the place and the people. Something that said, this is the speed we move at and we are happy with it.

When I think of Montana, I think of moments like that–simple moments. I suppose that’s a good way to describe Bozeman–simple–in the sweetest, softest way possible.

Truth be told, I didn’t know Grandpa Tony all that well. Anthony had grown up going to Bozeman every summer and having his grandparents out every Christmas. He talked to them at least weekly, though often more frequently. They had been a big part of his life, especially his most fond memories of growing up and of family road trips. Being there, it finally made sense why.

The one thing I knew about Grandpa Tony with certainty is that he had the love of the woman whom he had loved most of his life. It’s sadly rare to find married couples still on love after a few decades together, let alone seven. But there is no doubt upon talking to either Grandpa Tony or Grandma Peggy that they truly loved one another.

One of my favorite discussions with Grandma Peggy came at our wedding when she told me she knew I had a good one because of who he was named after.

Just the way they looked at one another, it was always apparent that they had a deep admiration and respect between them. Something that only comes with time and sacrifice.

Upon Grandpa Tony’s passing, I thought a lot about this. I listened to the many stories of transitions formed over the years between Anthony and his grandparents. We talked about Grandpa Tony’s love of a good game of golf, his handiness, his unwillingness to get AC, and his incredible ability to tell stories. When Anthony talks about his grandfather, I see so many qualities in Anthony that undoubtably came from him.

I would say chief among those was his commitment to his wife and a continuous, sweetly obvious love that became an essential part of each of their identities.

He probably wasn’t a perfect man, but he was a good man. To have gone through 71 years with someone and still only desire to be with them is not only a huge accomplishment, but it is also a true statement of those individuals’ dedication to hard work, personal growth, and selflessness.

If you didn’t know anything else about Grandpa Tony, seeing the love he had for Grandma Peggy was a testament to the impact he made on this side of heaven.

I am thankful to have known Grandpa Tony and to have inherited his name in my husband and sons. We are grateful for the legacy he has left and hope to honor it until we see him again.

You are missed. We wish you peace and rest. Don’t worry, we will take care of your girl while you’re away.