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A Grandfather's everlasting love blooms on.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was running around my house cleaning and

prepping for the big day. I got on my hands and knees to inspect every inch of my

house even the floors in my kitchen, the very place in which my guest of honor

would be sure to step foot on. My husband always made sure that the yard which was

manicured but he made sure that this week the yard would receive extra attention.

Every thing had to be perfect. I must have gone over every inch of my house inside

and out and still I felt that it was not sparkling enough for the arrival of my

Grandfather. You would think that royalty was arriving. My grandfather was not

royalty, but he was the Patriarch of our family, which was royalty to me.

My Grandfather was the man that would be the measure of all men for me. A loving,

hard working man, my grandfather worked for over twenty years in the steel mills of

Chicago, while raising four children Three daughters and one son.

A son of immigrants that came to America in 1931 only a year after he was born,

my "Grandpa" as I lovingly called him, had dealt with much adversity in his life.

My grandfather was faced with prejudice, language barriers, the death of his first

born son and eventually the end of a twenty five year marriage.

My mother would tell me stories of how her father worked through harsh conditions

in Chicago and in spite of everything over came those barriers and always managed

to be a very loving father.

When my father asked for his youngest daughters hand in marriage, my grandfather

embraced my father and treated him as his own son. My father quickly learned that

by marrying his daughter, that he was expected to care for his family and home with

the same love are care that my grandpa gave.

My father also a great and strong man in my life, had an abiding respect for my

grandfather. Grandpa would always say to us that a well kept house was the sign of a

fine family, and when he would arrive to my childhood home, I would see his eyes

scan the house inside and out. He never hid the fact that he was inspecting my

fathers yard work, and house upkeep. I remember being able to see the unmistakable

twinge of nervousness in my father eyes. The twinge of nervousness that could be

brought on by no man except my grandfather.

The day my grandfather arrived with his wife of seventeen years and her daughters

and their family was a proud day for me. I was hosting my very first Thanksgiving

dinner. At twenty four years old this was not

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