If you know me, you know that I’m very interested in my family history. Through my adventures, I came across my grandfather’s obituary: He passed away on September 12th, 2002. This is my letter to him.
Holy cow, has it really been 13 years? Thirteen years since you died? Wow. I was only five, but God, I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Frankly, I wish I didn’t.
I wish that one of the few memories I have of you wasn’t when you were laying in a hospital bed, unresponsive to those around you. I wish I remembered fishing with you, camping with you, going to your house and playing with blocks on the floor with you…But I don’t. I can’t remember what you were like back then. I hate that. I wish I could remember more of the short time I had with you.
Remember that little wooden car you made me? I still have it. It’s on my dresser; I’m looking at it right now. I keep it safe. I plan on taking it with me when I move out for school, hopefully the second half of next year.
School. I’m hoping to attend University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, your old stomping ground! I wonder what your reaction would have been when I told you that. Grandma’s pretty stoked.
I’m reading over your obituary as I write this. “Charles leaves behind eight grandchildren.” Oh, how times have changed! There’s thirteen of us now! Nicole, Max, Brynn, Lauren, me, Erin, Nathan, Kellen, Kenzie, Ella, Norah, Owen, and Luke. It’s crazy how some of those kids won’t even know you. Well, frankly, it sucks.
We’re all doing just fine. Don’t worry, so are your kids. We keep ’em busy around holidays, that’s for sure.
I guess the main thing I want to say is thank you. You know what for, I don’t have to get into that.
A lot has changed in the past 13 years, Grandpa. I wish you were here to see it.