If I had one letter to write to Heaven...

it'd go something like this, it'd be to my Grandpa whom I lost in March of 2009.

Dear Grandpa,

Wow, I'm 16 now, can you believe it? Your Sally Jane is all grown up now. I just wish you were here to spend it with me.

I guess you could say that you were my hero, I know everyone's made mistakes in their life, and they make decisions not everyone agrees with. But you were always that strong shoulder I wanted to be like. You were always "Mr. Cool" to me with your bleach-white, full head of hair and all of your pictures in your Cadillac when you were trying to impress Grandma still. Or when they found out about your cancer you didn't want to tell us, you wanted to live, you always were like that.

I guess I want to say I'm sorry too. the fact I probably could've done better at school, at I could've made better choices before. Or when I was barely sick and yet I didn't come see you on the last Father's Day I could've spent with you. I always thought you were invincible, like Superman. You were my Superman, you always defended me when my parents got angry with me, or laughed when I yelled at my Dad over the remote control. Or when I accidently dropped my Thanksgiving plate all over Grandma's newly polished floor, you simply took me in your arms and told me it was okay.

And you always had a hiding spot that I could run to when Mom and Dad got frustrated with me, that place on your lap in that big blue chair that everyone wanted to be on with you, but I was the youngest grandchild, so I always was the first one to get it.

And thank you for the endless tractor rides, they take up most of my memory. No matter how cold it was, how tired you were, or how bad I was that day you always took me out and let me drive it, in your lap, and you were always holding me, making sure I didn't fall off, I think you are still, still hodling me, so I don't fall off.

Your childhood memories you shared with me are still with me. Your 13 brothers and sister was always something I wanted to hear about, and how you were always compassionate, the good one, the calm one.

When Great Aunt Susan was little and she never wanted to cross that rickety old bridge, you never made fun of her like Uncle John did, you simply said everytime, "what's the matter Sue? Are you scared?" and everytime she'd go "Yes Paul I'm scared." You simply picked her up and carried her across.

You were always someone's shoulder, but then you turned so weak that it scared me, I'm sorry I didn't see you as much as I could have, I was being selfish. You lost all of your hair, all of your strength and it felt like you weren't you anymore.

And I'm sorry I didn't cry as much as everyone else at your funeral, I was trying to be like you, trying to be everyone's shoulder, someone that everyone could lean on because you weren't there anymore. I thought I had too.

And it amazes me how much you were still proud of all of your grandchildren, no matter how many parties they went to, the pregnancies they went through out of wedlock, the drugs they were involved in, how many times they went to jail, or just how messed up they were, you still proud. I hope you're proud of me still.

I went to Germany, you probably saw that though. The man on the plane reminded me so much of you I almost started to cry. He had white hair too, and big hands that were so strong and yet so rickety at the same time from old age. I took almost 400 pictures, in case I forgot, and everytime I went by the sea, or the Alps, or even when I saw one of those little trucks they had, I thought of you, I just had to remember if you liked it or not.

I love you. And I wish I could just tell you how much I still do. I wish you were here, this past Father's Day was so hard that I couldn't stand it. But I did, and no matter what I'll love you. I wish you could've seen me with a new boyfriend that you'd give that stern look too everytime he touched me, and my future kids that you'd hold in that big blue chair that I had so many memories on.

One day I hope to be like you and Grandma, 52 years, wow. Three daughters together too.

I just will always remember when Mom talked about how you never cursed in front of a lady. You never lit up a cigarette unless you were outside, and you never drank any alcohol as long as Grandma or she and her sisters were around.

I just wish I could've told you good bye, so I'm saying it now.

I love you, and good bye Grandpa, I'm always thinking of you.


Posted on July 24th, 2009 at 06:40am


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