The Gifts We Treasure Most- Memories

I had a dream about grandpa last night. When I woke up in my still dark room, my mind a fog of fused fact and fiction, I needed a moment to sort it out. When I finally remembered that grandpa was gone, has been gone, I was a little saddened. It's difficult when a loved one passes, but you soon discover that the people you love the most, the ones who have somehow shaped your life never really leave you, though they may physically go. Sometimes it's nice to shuffle through the past and pick the place we want to be, the people we want to be with. That's the gift of memories. They can be opened on a whim, and treasured once again.

I like to swap memories with mom and Aunt Debby. It's funny to hear them talk about "daddy". Grandpa was different from daddy, a little greyer, a lot easier. But he was both, and then some. He was husband to one, father to seven, neighbor and friend to many. He was brother and son, who later became postman. Some saw him on an old street with a sack of letters and a smile, I saw him with a fist full of candy, a heart full of humor.

I remember him with both hands held out, a clenched quarter in one, asking "Which one?" Somehow I always picked the right one. This was grandpa's magic.

Grandpa's games also included greeting me in unexpected ways as I strolled down the street from school, chatting with friends. I'd see him half a block ahead.. My friends would ask "Hey, isn't that your grandpa, behind the tree?" Their twisted faces told me they couldn't see the humor in a shabby old man's body protruding from behind the delicate branches of a baby tree. This was a schoolgirl's nightmare,though now I imagine him there and laugh out loud.

Looking through some letters after grandpa passed, allowed me to glimpse his youth, a soldier in the army then, he looked forward to dancing and dating. He loved pretty girls,and peppy songs. I picture him tapping a shiny brown shoe, coaxing a song. The way he did with the radio in the kitchen on the shelf above the stove. But as I recall, the uniforn was of faded courderoys and polyester print shirts. The pretty girl was a giddy granddaughter, griping his arms and saddling his shoes for a dance.

These are a few of the treasures grandpa left in my memory box. I hope that each day I can drop a few into someone elses.