I have very few concrete memories of him. I know, in my heart, he was just a man, but I also know he was the very best Granddad I could've wished for.
From what I've been told, he told Mom at one point that if he could've taken me for longer when I was a baby, he would've breastfed me if it'd been possible. That always made me laugh.
He spoiled me and loved me, both immeasurably. I remember sitting on his knee. I vaguely remember the sound of his voice. It's hard to put into words the emotional blanket that wrapped around me when I was with him--I was loved and important, precious and a joy. I felt all of that and more.
Some things come back in flashes--standing in the garage with him, being out in the garden with him while he weeded and I played with the ladybugs on the asparagus plants, watching him shave in the morning.
Sadly, childhood memories have faded. Heartbreakingly, my Granddad took ill when I was about 8, I think. He became emaciated and weak due to the illness. His spirit was still strong even though his body was not. I was no longer allowed to sit on his lap or be a kid around him. When I visited him and my Grandmother, I was reprimanded by her if I listened to him about being playful or hugging him. It was during one such visit that I must've realized that Grandmother was suddenly something like Granddad's jail keeper and I couldn't be a child around him anymore.
I called Mom and cried and cried and cried to her that I wanted to come home, Grandmother was mean. After that, I was only allowed to talk to Mom on the phone if I promised Grandmother that I wouldn't cry to her.
It wasn't much longer after that that Granddad died. I remember being at the funeral. My aunt got up to talk about Granddad and cried and cried while she tried to speak. I don't remember crying at all. Somehow I'd already grieved because he'd been taken away from me first by the illness and then by Grandmother.
If there was ever one person I'd want to talk to who's been in my life and is no longer here, it would be him. Not just talk to, I guess. I'd really like to hug him again, tight, for a really long time. Then I'd tell him I still miss him all the time and ask him if I'm doing ok, have I disappointed him?
I don't know what year, but my Granddad wrote a poem about me. My Grandmother included it in a letter she sent to me about 10 years ago.
My Granddad wrote a poem. About me. It's probably not the best poem in written history to anyone but me. I don't know if he ever wrote anything else, stories or other poetry, but this poem may be one of the most cherished items I have because I know he must've loved me immensely if he'd written something like this.
My Granddad and Me
On December Eleventh from one to three,
I sat and played on my Granddad's knee.
My temperament and demeanor was something to behold,
As I sat there enthralled without being told.
The music was playing and the sun was quite bright,
As I listened and looked at the world with delight.
My world is so small and requires some attention,
If only folks would allow it without all the pretensions.
My Granddad doesn't encourage me to be cute or bright,
He lets me be me and do what I like.
I jabbered and sputtered and took it all in,
As he watched with great joy and a silly little grin.
He says no-no whenever he must,
But that's O.K. for I have violated his trust.
He's reassuring and as loving as can be,
Especially those times I sit on his knee.
All this is possible as you can see,
Cause I like him and he likes me.
WHT
Thanks to my aunt, I know more now about what an incredible person my Granddad was, including more information about his service time in the Air Force. So today, on Memorial Day, I remember him for the warm and lovely memories, no matter how foggy they may be, and am grateful to him, my Grandpa and my Uncle Mike for their contributions to our country.
