My Grampie would have been 90 years old today. He died about 14 years ago. Words that come to my mind when I think about him are kind, wise, and devoted. He had a sweet smile. I never saw him standing, he lived in a wheelchair my entire life. I remember finding an old photo of him once, standing next to my grandmother, who I knew to be small woman, but suprisingly became dwarfed next to his stature. I never knew until that moment how tall he was. I remember sitting on his lap eating crackerjacks in Texas. I remember sitting on the front seat console next to him while he drove his white Bonneville in California. I remember thinking he could do anything, even though he could not walk. I remember he was a great cook, and he loved oatmeal cookies and sherbert. I remember how patient he was, and how he only lost his temper with me once. I remember how much that hurt, because it only hurts when it comes from someone you love.He was a fireman. He was a painter. He was a soldier in World War II. He was an elder in the church. He was a devoted husband, father, and grandfather. He was and is a lifetime hero of mine. He was the best.
I miss him. Especially on days like this.
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Those simple little things we would do together are some of my most heartwarming memories. Going to the grocery store to pick up what we needed for dinner. Dropping by the church building to check on things. Hanging out on the patio at 811 watching Malia and Emily play. Sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee in the afternoon.
Yes, I miss him, too, still. He was more than a father-in-law to me. He was the closest I came to having a "father" here on earth.
nice. very very nice.
thanks for sharing him with us.
blogger won't let me sign the comment with my new 'name/site'..but, thanks for changing your link!
Mike J.