Happy Birthday, Grampy

Yesterday was my Grampy's birthday. He would've been 87 years old. My dad and his wife had a "birthday party" of sorts for them & sent me these pictures. They each got flowers and a small cupcake.

 They both loved sweets -- Grampy especially, which was problematic, as he was diabetic. I remember him hiding candy in a kitchen drawer -- the one that held the dish towels. It wasn't a very good hiding spot. There was always a twinkle in his eye when I would sneak a sugary orange slice or piece of chocolate from the drawer.

I talk about Grammy a lot more than Grampy, but that's not because I loved him any less. I just had less time with him. He died when I was in college. It was fairly unexpected -- his heart failed after a procedure had been done -- and I was totally unprepared for it. I carry a lot of guilt from that sudden loss. As he grew older and his independence lessened, I would complain about having to drive him places. Mainly because he wanted to go to the grocery store every day. He didn't need groceries every day, of course -- he just wanted a trip out of the house. I was a busy college student & didn't understand. I didn't think about what it would be like to be him -- to be stuck in the house all day, to just want to get out and take a drive.

But that's not true. I did think about it -- and it made me sad. So I'd apologize for being impatient. He always forgave me. But for some reason, it's easier to remember my transgressions than it is to remember his ready forgiveness.

I had more time with Grammy. More time to grow up, more time to appreciate her, more time to make up for being a self-centered teenager. More time to say I love you, I love you, I love you more than words can say.

I hope Grampy knows that I love him, too. And I wish we could've shared a cupcake on his birthday.