Dear Grampie

Dear Grampie,

I know you can’t physically hear me right now, and you’ll never read this post, but I believe this message will find you.

I’m not going to lie to you, Gramps, today has been hard. But looking at you, lying peacefully in your man cave with the Yankees on the TV, my heart feels at ease. I know this is exactly where you want to be. The farm has always been my favorite place, and I’m so grateful to be here with you right now.

Thank you, Grampie, for taking us grandkids out to breakfast with you. We were annoying and loud and disruptive of your normal morning hangout with your best buddies down at The Longhorn, but you let us keep coming anyways. You’d waltz into the cousins’ room, a massive room with four beds allowing for ultimate sleepovers, and yell “We’re burning daylight!” in your husky Grampie voice. We’d pile up in your dust covered truck and watch the sun rise as we followed that dirt road into town. We’d order way too much food, never finishing a plate, but the dogs never seemed to mind the leftovers. We’d order cups of hot chocolate to reflect what we saw looking back at you and all the old geezers with coffee cups in hand. We’d order Jones sodas in glass bottles because what 11 year old doesn’t love pretending they’re cracking a cold one. On the way home, we’d swing by and pick up the newspaper. I never understood why your paper wasn’t delivered to your house. But it allowed an extra 5 minutes in the car with you and my cousins, so I never complained.

Thank you, Grampie, for giving me my love of donuts. I’ll forever look at cake donuts with white frosting and sprinkles and think of you. Even though you told us recently that you don’t even like the sprinkles. That would’ve been nice to know a few years ago, Grampie. But I guess I‘ll let this one slide, but just this once, okay?

Thank you, Grampie, for being the best grandpa. For being my grandpa.

Whenever I see sudoku, toothpicks, cowtails, donuts, or anything that has to do with the Yankees, I’ll see you too.

79 years, 6 children, and 14 grandchildren later, you had one hell of a run.

The sky was painted beautifully in honor of you tonight.