20 Years Later

On February 12, I always recall that morning, now twenty years ago, when dad quietly knocked on my door and told me that grandpa had passed away. It was a Saturday, and I had spent the night before shopping at Lakeside, at Hudson's, I think. And I had to work that day. And it was a little more than three months before my high school graduation and 20 days before I turned 18. And dad told me he was glad that grandpa did not pass away on my birthday. It was one of the few times he referenced his mom to me.

I've lived more than half of my life without three of my four grandparents, and it's been nearly a decade since my other grandfather passed away. I was fortunate to have three of them for over 17 years, I know, though I'm still jealous when I hear someone had one into their 30s. Or even 40s, rare as it is.

I see this relationship with my nephews and niece, who will all hopefully be fortunate enough to recognize what wonderful grandparents they've been blessed with. Lucky kiddies.

I had McDonald's today, a grilled chicken salad and a cheeseburger. It is always my way of playing tribute to him, and a way for me to remember those trips up north, those Saturday shopping visits, the times with the pets and the times in the garden and hitting the golf ball around. It was decades ago already, and now I enter a third decade without him.

We're on the brink of our latest DC blizzard, and the city is unsettled somewhat, as we anticipate and prepare for a foot of snow (maybe). It's not Snowmaggedon, but emotions get exaggerated as we prepare for the doom and gloom. I think how grandpa was a Winter Floridian, and I think I get that feeling of escape from him.

Love you, Grandpa, and I miss you and I don't forget you, especially when I see your namesake great-grandson. What a sweet boy, and I see so much of you in him.