by LifebyLisa

Created on: May 21, 2010

My grandpa was the first true love of my life.  He and I were inseparable.  He helped relieve the anxiety I felt of coming into a new family, having been adopted at the age of six.  He was located exactly half way between school and home, which made visiting him regularly quite convenient.  Every Friday my parents would receive the same stream of calls from me.  The first was always letting them know I was with GRANDPA; the second was asking to have dinner, which always led to the third asking to spend the night or sometimes weekend with he and my grandma.

My grandma instilled the love of crossword and jigsaw puzzles in me, but she never could quite match the qualities of GRANDPA.  He was there to walk with me across the street to Pel's Candy store. It was the weekly ritual.  For a dime, he would help me decide between the strips of candy dots or chocolate bar.  Occasionally we'd skip Pel's for an ice cream sundae.  My mom tried so hard to explain to her dad that is was not necessary to do this, and demanded that he no longer allow me to ask him for money to get a candy bar.  He listened to her request, pinkie promised that it would NEVER happen again.  From that day forth, he instead met me at the white picket fence with a shiny dime in his hand ready to walk with me. 

I felt so safe with grandpa.  Nothing could hurt me.  Never did we have a bad time, never a harsh word spoken.  The last time I saw him, was at the nursing home.  I was so confused and saddened that grandpa didn't recognize me.  He waved to me to come closer to his bedside, looked at me, gave me a hug, calling me a little brown bear, due to my furry winter coat.  He died shortly after that visit.

To this day, forty years later, his memory is still alive in me.  Each year, on the anniversary of his passing, I stop to reflect on the warm memories I have of him.  Every year I stand in silence honoring his life.  Every year, he sends me a sign that he is still watching over me.  Sometimes a cloud formation, a song, or simply words spoken from another. 

Today I watch my own children interact with their grandpa, and it brings such happiness for me to see.  Even into their teens, the three of them somewhat struggle to see who can be closest to their grandpa.  I treasure the time they spend together as much as I treasure my own childhood memories of grandpa and I.  People always told me that if my grandpa had a back pocket I would have climbed in it to be as close as possible to him.  We were inseparable, and in a sense we still are.

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