Today is my grandfather’s birthday. As many of you may remember from reading one of my very first posts, my grandpa recently passed away (December 2010). What I failed to divulge in the previous post was just how close I was to this incredible man.
When I was three and a half years old, my parents and I moved into my grandparent’s house for a short time while our house was under construction. As it seems to happen with my family, there were about a million things going on that made our lives extremely hectic at that point in time including the fact that my mom was pregnant with my sister and I had a horrible case of pneumonia that kept me out of day care and school altogether. I do not remember much of this time since I was very young, but there are moments that are vivid.
The first moment that is clear is the Christmas morning of 1988, the first and only one of 2 Christmases that I woke up at my grandparents house. I woke up very early as I normally do on Christmas and ran toward the living room. Under the giant Christmas tree was a mound of presents for me to open. I remember my grandpa sitting in his red robe and pajamas on their couch watching me and listening as I explained to him what the present was and how much I loved it. He kept a smile on his face and pretended to hang on my every word.
The second moment that is engrained into my head is when my mom and dad called from the hospital in January 1989 to tell me I had a little sister and that I could see her soon. I am sure that I was glad to hear I would be seeing my family soon, but what I remember most is being lifted onto the counter by my grandpa. No one was allowed to sit on the counter in my grandparents’ house, but they had one of those old school phones with the short cord that connected it to the wall, so in order for me to be able to talk on the phone I needed to sit on the counter. It is funny the things you remember.
I am not sure if our connection was based on the living situation so early in my life, but whatever the explanation, there certainly was a connection. During my grammar school years, I would spend time at my grandparents during the summer and my grandpa always made sure to take us swimming. He would get on his swim trunks and grab the key from the closet and then walk us to the pool. He typically sat in the sun while we played, but every once in a while, when the pool water was warm enough he would join us.
In middle school, my parents taught my sister and I how to play a game called Pinochle, which was a card game they often played with my grandparents. My sister and I caught on pretty fast and we became quite the players. During the summer we would spend HOURS playing pinochle with my grandparents. I will never forget the first time we beat them – they were shocked!
In high school, I could always turn to my grandpa for answers, although I sometimes dreaded calling him because a simple answer would turn into a 2 hour explanation. I typically called with questions regarding math (pre-calculus and trig mostly). But it was a physics project that I remember the most. I do not even recall the parameters of the project, although I am sure I have the assignment sheet somewhere in my collection of school things, but I remember the project itself. I was a little bit lost on what we were required to do and unsure of where to start, so as usual I called my grandfather. He kind of walked me through the parameters and then suggested that we both brainstorm a way to fulfill the project requirements. A few days passed and I went down to their house to start work on the project. My grandpa and I shared our ideas with each other, and as luck would have it, we came up with EXACTLY the same project idea – for the record the idea involved using incandescent and fluorescent light on the same piece of fabric to show how it changes the color. We built the project together. I got an A.
In college it was a little harder to visit my grandparents on a regular basis because I lived so far away. I saw them every time I came home (once a month or every other month) but that was a huge difference from almost every week. Luckily my grandpa always kept tabs on me. He would call me just to see how I was doing. Not a holiday passed when I did not hear from him if I was not at home. Not a finals period passed without a call wishing me good luck. Not a cold day passed without him calling me to make sure I was warm enough. I almost always answered these calls and if I did not get them, I always called back. On my college graduation day, my grandpa was there, taking pictures as usual and telling me how proud he was of me.
Law school took even more of my time, but I still visited whenever I was home, and his phone calls never stopped although I did miss more of them. And more often than not he ended his voicemail messages with “don’t worry about calling back. We know you are busy and just wanted to tell you we love you.” Most times I called back, sometimes I didn’t. Now I wish I had returned the call every time.
These are the big things I remember, but there are other things too. He thought my cat Skipper was brilliant. He always called me “dolly.” When he made silly jokes he would put his hand over his mouth to cover his smile. After his knee replacements he walked kind of pigeon-toed. He took FOREVER to take a picture, but he took some of the best pictures I have ever seen. He had the biggest sweet tooth known to mankind – both lunch and dinner required dessert. He loved my grandma more than anyone in the entire world. When he was frustrated he would sigh and then pull his hand through his thick silver hair. He always sat at the same spot at the dining room table, the spot I still expect to see him filling when I walk through the front door.
I was standing next to my grandpa holding his hand at the moment he took his last breath on this earth. As difficult as it was to be there, it felt good to know that I was with him for the only thing I knew he was afraid of – dying – just like he had been there all those millions of times I needed him.
It is difficult to remember all these emotional things, but I also never want to forget them. My grandpa always has had and always will have a special place in my heart.
It takes gumption to remember.
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