Andrea's Adventures in Binkyland

My Grandpa

Every now and again, over the last few years, my grandpa has come up in conversation, and I would often make the same remark: "My grandpa," I would say with a naughty smile, "is little and cute and pink. He's so adorable." Now, some of you may think this is disrespectful. Maybe a little too flip. That may even be true.

My grandfather passed away about two weeks ago, now, and I've been thinking long and hard ever since about what to write. The truth will do, I think, and nothing else. This in no way denigrates the esteem in which I hold my grandfather. Love takes a lot of forms, and my memory of my grandfather as a crotchety pink teddy bear is my truth about someone that I love very much.

For all practical purposes, I've only ever had one grandpa. There were obviously two at one point, but my mom's dad died long before I started forming coherent memories. My dad's dad, though, was always a quiet force in my life. He always had a joke to crack and a life lesson to teach you. He wasn't always next door to me, but like all of my Michigan family, I knew he was out there, ready to leap in if I ever needed him.

I remember him forever tinkering in the garage, always building or fixing or helping. One of my most treasured possessions is a white wooden cradle that he made for me with his own hands, (along with the doll, mattress and quilt to go in it that my grandma made). I've kept them with me through easily dozens of moves since the day I got them; that was well over twenty years ago.

I remember my grandpa coming to my rescue when my car died in the freezing cold because my gas line froze up. He explained to me the mechanics of gasoline in cold weather, and I've never let my tank get too empty in the winter since.

I remember grandpa chasing Sasha and playing peek-a-boo with her at our family party in November. They obviously loved each other so much, and I am so grateful that they got to spend that time together. Sasha is too young to remember him, but so long as I remember them playing together, then I can tell her someday. I think this memory may very well be the one I treasure most.

It wasn't until my grandfather's funeral, though, when I heard what everyone else had to say, that I started to really understand how much influence he has had on my life. Some time ago, I read a very powerful piece of advice. Decide what kind of people you wish there were more of in the world; then go out and be that person.

Well, the person I want to be is an awful lot like my grandfather. I try to work hard and do every job the right way, the first time. I try to help people in whatever capacity I can. I try to always make my family my absolute top priority in life.

So: little and cute and pink? My grandfather was certainly not a tall man. And I absolutely adored him. As for pink, that's absolutely indisputable. It's not a solemn description. But grandpa was never really a solemn man, and it would be a discredit to remember him other than how he was.

I really miss him.

Posted by andrea at February 12, 2004 10:56 PM