I’ve been putting off this post because every time I start writing it, I begin to tear up and never finish. We recently celebrated my grandpa’s 89th birthday. I don’t really know where to begin. I’ve told this story countless times to my closest friends and each time I’ve said it, my heart aches. Growing up, my parents worked a lot so I stayed with my grandparents for majority of the week. My grandpa would cook me breakfast and lunch and sometimes a snack before I get picked up. He would watch tv with me and tell me stories while we ate. Then I’d usually go upstairs and play video games for a while then come back down. He would call me every night to say goodnight. As time goes by, he gets older. My grandma passes away. Seeing him so hurt, so lonely, it broke my heart. Imagine losing someone you spent the last 53 years of your life with. Someone you raised a family with.
Time goes by he gets older. He starts having accidents where he falls, or doesnt think straight. He becomes confused. Doesnt know who I am or what he’s doing. The frustration in his face makes tears run down my cheeks. Time goes by, he gets older. We used to go to reno every week to gamble. He loved gambling. Even if he lost, it was the thrill that made him happy. We havent gone in years. Not because we don’t want to. Its because he’s not strong enough. He was the strongest man I have ever known. He’d pick me up with one arm so easily. When you start taking care of the person that took care of you, it opens your eyes to how precious time is. I love my grandpa. I love everything he’s done for me. He still teaches me something everyday. He teaches me to appreciate my family, my education, my life. He’s lived 89 years of it and counting. His hair may be silver, his heart may be golden, he’s still the strongest man I know, and everyday that he is here is a blessing to me and my family.
