Today marks the anniversary of Grandpa Joe's death, back in 1994. Gosh, how time goes by. I was a Senior in High School, and hurting. Depressed, sad, lonely, so ready to take that next step in my life--to college and away from Detroit and being a teenager. I was three weeks shy of turning 18. There are moments when that time feels like yesterday, sitting in a car at Shrine on my 18th birthday, and knowing I was an adult and everything was changing. And losing family members for the first time in my life. I remember dad gently telling me he was worried that Grandpa would pass away on my birthday, because he knew the hurt in that.
There are many wonderful memories I have of him--going up north, hitting up McDonald's, golf, scouting for morel mushrooms, listening to the Tigers, walking to KMart or Randazzo's, those mints he ate, his love for animals, his quiet unassuming nature but underneath was a strong, independent man who knew far more from life than what his years of formal education were able to teach him. I remember sharing birthdays with him, his polo shirts, getting a quarter from him. I love that my oldest nephew is his namesake. I was a very lucky granddaughter.
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