My Grandpa
He would have been 86 next Tuesday. His birthday was the day after mine. When I was born he said I was the best birthday present he ever recieved. I keep trying to find words to describe him but the only thing I can think is that he was the best man I ever knew. I've been searching for a man like my grandpa my entire life. He was wonderful, he was special, he had so much love to give that love was automatically given back. He flirted with waitresses, and kissed the hands of my girlfriends, like a proper gentleman.
When I was in my early teen years, I was battling with my disease. I was out of control and unable to be contained. My grandparents took me in under the thought that 2 bi-polars (me and my dad) in one house was 2 too many. But my grandpa was bi-polar too. He was never properly diagnosed but that's what he was.
The friction between my dad and I lasted many years, there was a 2 year period where I did not speak to my father, but I had my grandpa. He was going to walk me down the aisle. He told me I was beautiful and gave me his sloppy, stubbly grandfather kisses that left your cheek scratchy and slightly damp. He hugged me like a bear, he told me things would be alright. Things are alright but now there is an emptiness.
My grandfather organized unions after he left law school. He dropped out of Harvard law because "lawyers are crooks." He went into construction and dealt with real crooks. But he would tell you that the mafia would screw you to your face and lawyers would screw you on paper.
He was in World War II. He was too smart for the front lines so he repaired airplanes. His batallion followed George Patton's. My grandfather never talked about the war until he became touched with alzhiemers. He was still all "there" but his short term memory was out weighed by his long term.
He remembered growing up in Far Rockaway. He swam in the ocean as a young man, and I can still remember him swimming in the open water of the Great South Bay when we had our house on Fire Island. He was a slow methodical swimmer and you could watch his progress as his bathing cap bobbed up and down with the stroke of his arms. He continued to swim long after we sold the house, switching from salt water to the chlorinated water of the pool and his strokes became slower as he aged. On Wednesday February 3rd 2010, just 13 days shy of his birthday, he went swimming at his local gym. When he got out of the pool he colapsed and was pronounced dead an hour or so later. He died doing something he loved, and he lived his life loving.
My grandpa was a good looking man, he looked years younger then his age. When he would drop me off at school people would think he was my father. My mother's single friends flirted with him shamelessly. Even in death, when the family gathered to spend their last minutes with him before they closed the casket for the traiditional jewish funeral, he looked good. Though he was not embalmed he still had his color and his face was smooth and peaceful. My grandpa was beautiful inside and out.
To quote my grandmother's eulogy (which I was asked to read at the funeral) "when you asked Bob how he was feeling he would answer 'I'm perfect!' to me he was perfect."
Grandpa Bob I love you and there's an emptiness inside me that will never be filled by anyother. You were my rock, you were my inspiration, you were the man all men should aspire to be. I wish you were here so I could tell you all these things I never had a chance to say.
When I was in my early teen years, I was battling with my disease. I was out of control and unable to be contained. My grandparents took me in under the thought that 2 bi-polars (me and my dad) in one house was 2 too many. But my grandpa was bi-polar too. He was never properly diagnosed but that's what he was.
The friction between my dad and I lasted many years, there was a 2 year period where I did not speak to my father, but I had my grandpa. He was going to walk me down the aisle. He told me I was beautiful and gave me his sloppy, stubbly grandfather kisses that left your cheek scratchy and slightly damp. He hugged me like a bear, he told me things would be alright. Things are alright but now there is an emptiness.
My grandfather organized unions after he left law school. He dropped out of Harvard law because "lawyers are crooks." He went into construction and dealt with real crooks. But he would tell you that the mafia would screw you to your face and lawyers would screw you on paper.
He was in World War II. He was too smart for the front lines so he repaired airplanes. His batallion followed George Patton's. My grandfather never talked about the war until he became touched with alzhiemers. He was still all "there" but his short term memory was out weighed by his long term.
He remembered growing up in Far Rockaway. He swam in the ocean as a young man, and I can still remember him swimming in the open water of the Great South Bay when we had our house on Fire Island. He was a slow methodical swimmer and you could watch his progress as his bathing cap bobbed up and down with the stroke of his arms. He continued to swim long after we sold the house, switching from salt water to the chlorinated water of the pool and his strokes became slower as he aged. On Wednesday February 3rd 2010, just 13 days shy of his birthday, he went swimming at his local gym. When he got out of the pool he colapsed and was pronounced dead an hour or so later. He died doing something he loved, and he lived his life loving.
My grandpa was a good looking man, he looked years younger then his age. When he would drop me off at school people would think he was my father. My mother's single friends flirted with him shamelessly. Even in death, when the family gathered to spend their last minutes with him before they closed the casket for the traiditional jewish funeral, he looked good. Though he was not embalmed he still had his color and his face was smooth and peaceful. My grandpa was beautiful inside and out.
To quote my grandmother's eulogy (which I was asked to read at the funeral) "when you asked Bob how he was feeling he would answer 'I'm perfect!' to me he was perfect."
Grandpa Bob I love you and there's an emptiness inside me that will never be filled by anyother. You were my rock, you were my inspiration, you were the man all men should aspire to be. I wish you were here so I could tell you all these things I never had a chance to say.