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About This Author
I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.
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The Waiting Game #607091 added September 14, 2008 at 11:17am
Restrictions: None
With a heavy heart
I have to say I am still stunned by the death of my grandfather.
 
This is from two years ago as we celebrated our birthday's together. We had a tendency to do that because they were only two weeks a part. For those of you who don't know, my grandfather was a major part of my life. After my parents divorced when I was a young child, we moved in with him. My mother, sister and I, so he got to help raise me. I believe I get a lot of my bluntness from him, and I am 100% sure the stubborn Irish thing I got going on came from his side of the family. 
Fondest Memories
At the end of high school, we moved across the street. I started working at Marianne's and had Tuesday's off. Every Tuesday he would drive by on his way to the grocery store, and find me washing/waxing/cleaning my car. And like clock work, he'd say....."You know, one of these days you're gonna wash the paint right off that car!"
As a young girl, he'd send me outside to cheer for his favorite college football teams when they were losing. Somehow thought I could send good vibes and things would turn around. Well, when you cheer, you need to do such things as cartwheels, and I loved to do them. There's only one problem with that.........he chewed tobacco. Can you image where that went? In the grass.......where I'd be doing cartwheels. Need I say more?
There was a public pool at the end of our street, where I'd spend all my time in the summer. I remember begging him to come and watch me during our competitve swimming meet with another city pool. Well, I waited and finally he showed up....in the middle of my breast stroke race. I was winning, had the edge but when I saw him, I was so elated, and shocked that he walked up there to see me, that I lost my lead, and took second. When I tagged the wall and looked up and saw him, he was shaking his head. Told me later that I had her beat and the next time I needed to keep my focus in the pool. Damn if he didn't know where my mind went too.
At my wedding, he gave me away. So during the portion where the groom takes the garter off the bride's leg, I admit I was shy since R was taking it off my leg in front of him. Well when R gets it off, he proudly shows it off, swinging it around his finger. Now here's my grandfather, shouting and laughing. R turns his back and gets ready to throw it to the bachelors, but fakes them out and doesn't let it go. My grandfather roared yelling, "there you go buddy." Thought it was the funniest thing.
A few years after Zak was born, we lived with him for a while. Night after night Zak would take his favorite book to his great grandfather, climb up onto his lap in the blue chair, and snuggle close while he listened to the story of "the pokey little pupppy." I can still her him calling me to come and get Zak who'd fallen asleep in the chair. I have that book to this day, refuse to part with it.
He taught me how to throw a football, to keep the faith, to never give up and fight for the things in this life that I truly wanted. Even was impressed with my ability to write.
I swear the man had selective hearing. During dinner one night, my mom was gone, and my Uncle Mark always sat across from me. Well, he had a way of irritating me on purpose, knowing how to easily get under my skin. I didn't want to eat, but Irish made me sit at the table with the rest of them and drink a glass of milk. So whenever I'd say something, Mark would start, doing a whinny voice, immitating me. Just as I went to take a drink of milk, Mark started, I laughed and the milk shot out across the table, onto Grandpa's plate and at Mark. Grandpa kicked me from the dinner table and sent me to my room. I tried to plead that it was Mark's fault, who of course put on that innocent act, but I still had to leave.
Sometimes, you'd be talking normally, or even yelling and he couldn't make out a word you'd say, but whisper in his pressence, and I'd bet you 9 out of 10 times he heard you. And watch out. 
A few years ago, his memory was really getting bad. I went to check on him during the day, and was stunned, and sad when he didn't know who I was. I cried, told R about it. Took Zak there a few days later, and he didn't remember Zak, was even a bit afraid of him. Well two days after that, R and I go to see him. I tell R not to expect much, and boy did we get a shock. He was up, sitting in the chair watching football. Takes one look at R and smiles. "Hey R, how are you doing? How's business?  WT heck???? I was so stunned, and a bit annoyed that he remember my hubby who he hadn't seen in a while, but forgot who I was. We leave the house, and R tells me that I exaggerate, that from what he could see, the man was doing fine.
My grandfather was known as Irish by everyone. He was always proud of his heritage, and wore green a lot. Fighting Irish T-shirts, pins, hats. And one year, I bought him boxers for his birthday. Thought they were perfect, and a bit funny. Wasn't even sure he'd ever wear them, but he loved them and wore them.
So my dearest Irish. I miss you terrible already. You effortlessly stepped in and helped guide me through this crazy world we live in. Because of you, I like college football, my favorite swear is shit, am strong, have a good sense of family, cherish my friends far and near, am proud to be Irish, have a unique sense of humor, and look to the simple things in life to make me happy. I know that you are finally at peace, right where you wanted to be. Reunited with your wife and son, and countless other family and friends who've gone before you.
You will be missed, and fondly remembered. Never was there a more vibrant man, so full of love and laughter. Look after the rest of us, for we truly need it. I love you always, Irish. God speed.
Live, Love, Laugh........always
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