My Tribute to an Extraordinary Man...

I was recently reminded that the little things that I am so fond of often-times add up to much larger things.

On January 19, 2011, I lost one of the most important men in my life - my grandfather.  I've thought for many days about what I would write in this post.  I'm still not quite sure what will end up in this text, but I know whatever it is, it will be fitting.  However, it will never do justice to this amazing man's life.  Mere words cannot express the influence he has had on me and the person that I hope to become.  In fact, I'm sure that I have not even realized the full extent of his impact on me.

I keep trying to pinpoint one profound life lesson that he left with me, but I know there isn't just one.  So many little things took on such larger meanings simply because I associated them with him.  I am bored to death by golf, but I would play a golf computer game with him for hours.  I never had a desire to play an instrument before, but loved playing the keyboard with him.  I could never do crossword puzzles by myself, but I sat in Denny's with him for hours completing them.  He made all of those mediocre interests extraordinary in my mind.

When we knew he was fatally ill, my mom and I drove across the country to see him one last time.  It's funny, really, that you always have these ideas of what you would say to someone that is dying if you had just one more chance to talk to them.  But when you actually get that chance, and you are standing in front of them, knowing that you'll never get the chance to see them again, all those thoughts escape you.  I could have told him how much he means to me, or how much I would miss him, or how I made all of the decisions I have in my entire life based on if he would be proud of me and the person I was becoming.  Instead, we talked about Butler basketball, my cousin's dream car, and vanilla ice cream.  I think that was okay though.  In those last visits with him, we didn't focus on the finality of why I drove 24 hours one way to sit next to him in a nursing home, feeding him O'Doull's non-alcoholic beer, which he loved by the way.  In fact, after the first drink I gave him, he said, "That's the best drink I've ever had....my first O'Doull's fed to me by my granddaughter."  Instead, we focused on the little things - the things that I will cherish the most from my time spent with him.  I did definitely get one thing right, though - I told him how much I love him.

After seeing my grandpa for the last time, kissing his forehead while he slept peacefully, and telling him one more time how much I love him, I said goodbye to him for the last time.  Even though he was sleeping soundly, I think he knew I was there and that we were leaving.  I was a bit uneasy about that.  Although I was glad that my last look at him was one of peace and serenity, part of me really wanted to talk to him just one more time, just to make sure he was okay.  On the long drive home, somewhere in the middle of Texas, I got my sign - I saw my first shooting star, ever, in 24 years of life.  While I'm not one to make strange connections with signs, I knew that was meant for me to see, to tell me he was okay.  Later that day, just as we returned safely home, we got the call that he had passed away.

I'm not sure that it has completely sunk in that he is gone, but I am reminded of and by little things.  I found myself reaching for the phone today to call him, but realized a few seconds later that he wouldn't be on the other end of the line anymore.  He isn't here physically anymore, but he will always be with me.  In every golf game.  In every note of keyboard music.  In every crossword puzzle.  In every decision I make.  In my heart and mind forever.

I love you, Grandpa. I miss you more every single day.  Rest in peace.