My Grandfather
My grandfather passed away yesterday afternoon. It was sudden, and not expected at all. He had just passed his stress test last week with flying colors. Always went to the doctors, and had a clean bill of health from his doctor. No clogged arteries, a strong heart, and no illness. He was 83, but that's young for him. We thought he was going to out live us all.
My grandfather was a marine, and served in two wars -- World War II and the Korean War (conflict). He earned a purple heart. He was born and raised in Kentucky. And the stories he could tell from his military years, and his years growing up in the south in the old days could enthrall and capture anyone's attention.
From stories of living in dry counties, and making moonshine or black berry wine to what it was like being a marine in two different wars. He had a way of telling a story, and I would soak up as much of them as I could while we were together.
My grandfather could also drink me under the table (well so can my grandmother actually). He used to drink beer all the time, but switched to whiskey. I would sit and drink with him, talk about politics and old stories until I got half crocked. But he would never show any sign of even catching a buzz. Yet he was drinking hard liquor, and I was drinking beer. Go figure. He also smoked filterless Pall Mall cigarettes since he was 15 years old, and had clear lungs.
I used to roll my eyes a lot when I was younger (ah who am I kidding, I still roll them a lot now). And one time when we had family over to the house, I was sitting across from him rolling my eyes at something my father said and he asked me "do that again... roll your eyes again, and I'll give you 20 bucks." He got such a kick out of it that that's the easiest 20 bucks I've ever made.
When I was in elementary school I lived with my grandparents for a short while. We were homeless a few times when I grew up. And by sixth grade my parents finally bought a house. My grandparents lived right around the block from the junior high that I would go to. And instead of selecting to stay at the school for lunch, I selected to go home for lunch. I'm not sure if they even do that anymore now.
Anyway, when I would go "home" for lunch, I would go to my grandparents house. My grandma would be working, but my grandpa would be at home and he would always make me lunch. Anything I wanted. He'd make me macaroni and cheese, soup, whatever I wanted. It was great. My grandfather made the best homemade cornbread this side of the Mississippi. He'd make it the old fashioned way... in an iron skillet.
My grandfather hated republicans as much as I do. We had a lot in common. We were both news junkies, we both got into politics, and we loved to bash Bush. Whenever I went over to my grandparents house I always b-lined it for the kitchen to sit next to him, and talk about current events. We'd talk for hours if you let us.
My grandfather is actually my step-grandfather. But the thing is, is that both sets of my grandparents divorced and remarried way before I was ever born. So all I knew was that I got lucky because I had extra grandparents. I've only ever known him as my grandpa. In fact, when I was younger I used to call him "papaw." I've never been as attached or as close to any of my other grandparents like I was him (blood grandparents included).
My grandfather was my heart, my soul, I adored him -- looked up to him, and I'm heart broken. He wasn't supposed to leave just yet, and I feel like a part of me is missing now.
My grandfather was a marine, and served in two wars -- World War II and the Korean War (conflict). He earned a purple heart. He was born and raised in Kentucky. And the stories he could tell from his military years, and his years growing up in the south in the old days could enthrall and capture anyone's attention.
From stories of living in dry counties, and making moonshine or black berry wine to what it was like being a marine in two different wars. He had a way of telling a story, and I would soak up as much of them as I could while we were together.
My grandfather could also drink me under the table (well so can my grandmother actually). He used to drink beer all the time, but switched to whiskey. I would sit and drink with him, talk about politics and old stories until I got half crocked. But he would never show any sign of even catching a buzz. Yet he was drinking hard liquor, and I was drinking beer. Go figure. He also smoked filterless Pall Mall cigarettes since he was 15 years old, and had clear lungs.
I used to roll my eyes a lot when I was younger (ah who am I kidding, I still roll them a lot now). And one time when we had family over to the house, I was sitting across from him rolling my eyes at something my father said and he asked me "do that again... roll your eyes again, and I'll give you 20 bucks." He got such a kick out of it that that's the easiest 20 bucks I've ever made.
When I was in elementary school I lived with my grandparents for a short while. We were homeless a few times when I grew up. And by sixth grade my parents finally bought a house. My grandparents lived right around the block from the junior high that I would go to. And instead of selecting to stay at the school for lunch, I selected to go home for lunch. I'm not sure if they even do that anymore now.
Anyway, when I would go "home" for lunch, I would go to my grandparents house. My grandma would be working, but my grandpa would be at home and he would always make me lunch. Anything I wanted. He'd make me macaroni and cheese, soup, whatever I wanted. It was great. My grandfather made the best homemade cornbread this side of the Mississippi. He'd make it the old fashioned way... in an iron skillet.
My grandfather hated republicans as much as I do. We had a lot in common. We were both news junkies, we both got into politics, and we loved to bash Bush. Whenever I went over to my grandparents house I always b-lined it for the kitchen to sit next to him, and talk about current events. We'd talk for hours if you let us.
My grandfather is actually my step-grandfather. But the thing is, is that both sets of my grandparents divorced and remarried way before I was ever born. So all I knew was that I got lucky because I had extra grandparents. I've only ever known him as my grandpa. In fact, when I was younger I used to call him "papaw." I've never been as attached or as close to any of my other grandparents like I was him (blood grandparents included).
My grandfather was my heart, my soul, I adored him -- looked up to him, and I'm heart broken. He wasn't supposed to leave just yet, and I feel like a part of me is missing now.