Friday, July 30, 2010


Last October, when my Grandpa turned 90, I wrote a post about him. It only seemed right. Well, now it only seems fair to feature my other Grandpa. I plan to focus on my Grandmothers at some point as well. As a child, I thought everyone loved their grandparents. I thought everyone was close to their grandparents. And, I thought every grandparent thought their grandchildren had hung the moon. That’s how it was in my world, so I believed that was how it was in the rest of the world. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized that wasn’t true. I still find it sad.

Grandparents, for me, were four of the most important relationships I would ever have. They had a direct influence on molding me into an adult. My mother has often said she loved that they loved her kids as much as she did. She particularly said that about my Grandpa Jack, her father-in-law.

I love all of my Grandparents, but I was closest to Grandpa Jack. It was as if his sole mission was to make me laugh, and oh, did he ever do that job well. In turn, my main goal when he was around was to make him laugh. He spent hours playing with us, and making toys for us. He took an old lawn mower, and took the blades off so we could ride it. He made a playhouse and kept in his yard. He made us stilts, and toys like he would have played with as a kid. He told us stories, made funny faces, and taught us things. There was never a doubt that he loved us, and supported us, and was proud of us.

He gave us an example of how to live. We saw him read his Bible, and we prayed with him. We saw the way he loved his family, and the way he treated others. The only times I remember deliberately disobeying my parents as a child were when I wanted to see my Grandpa and nothing was going to stop me. The most trouble I ever got in was for walking to my Grandparents house (I was a little young to be walking that far, and I took my little brother along) after my mother had said, “No.”

He died when I was 17, and I was heartbroken. That was almost 10 years ago, and still remains the worst day of my life, to date. It wasn’t bad because I was worried about him. I knew in my heart I would see him again. It was bad because I couldn’t stand the thought of the rest of my life without him. I still think about him every single day. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I realized he was my best friend.

No comments:

Post a Comment