Dreams...

It's been a few weeks now since I dreamt about my grandfather. The one year anniversary of his death is approaching and I can still hear him. I wonder how long that will be true.

We were never particularly close. I loved him of course, I just didn't understand him or even know him really. I am still learning who he was from stories I hear when I see my grandma.

They met in the military through a friend. I chuckle even now when I remember my grandma saying that she thought he was much too short for her. Eventually she did give in and go on a date with him. They were married for 48 years before he died.

He came from Michigan, he had a brother and a sister. He worked for GE for a long time and my grandma would sometimes bring him lunch.

He was sarcastic, lived by Murphy's law, went to church, read the bible and was my grandma's best friend. They called each other Pal.

He took me fishing. I think he always enjoyed fishing with my older brother a little better than me, but he took me anyway. He taught me how to shoot with a bow and arrow. My darts often missed the target and went flying in the woods, but he showed me again and again.

If I close my eyes long enough I can smell the warm, sweet-scent of his pipe, I can hear the way he exhaled through his nose, I can see the smoke rise from his puffs and swish away to oblivion in the ceiling fan blades. I can hear his voice just as distinct as if he were really speaking to me because the sound of his voice was grandpa and the way he said "Well, hi a there Jenny," was grandpa too.

He was a crafter. He made lots of things from wood. He made piggy banks out of wood, that look like real pigs and he carved Lucas' initials into the bottom of his piggy. He never had a chance to carve Noah's initials into his piggy and I am torn as whether to leave it be or to carve them in there as he would.

He was a gentleman. He always dropped my grandma at the door and then found a place to park. He had a singature smile that I knew well and a signature dance I'm told.

He could be tough and mean even, but he was grandpa. He let you know when he had, had enough by squeezing your knee. He had sayings, I am frustrated I can't remember them all.

I don't think I ever saw him wearing blue jeans. Even when he worked in the yard he had kahki pants on, but that was grandpa too.

I wonder what his youth was like. I have seen picutres of him when he was my age, he was handsome. He was exactely what I would picture a young man in the 40's and 50's era to look like.

He helped me build a pully once. I hated the assignment and didn't want to do it, but he helped me. He came to my high school graduation. I wonder what he would have looked like at my college graduation. How proud would he have been to see his only granddaughter complete her college education.

He never met my children. He was a great-grandpa and never met them. The last time he saw me, I was in my early teens. What would he think of this woman now?

He loved bull dogs. He made his own bread in R2D2, he named the bread maker. He fed the neighbors dog, Joe. He helped C.J. and me plant our very own trees in his backyard.

He loved baseball and took C.J. and me to a few games. We ate hotdogs. He liked trains and would build a track around the Christmas tree each year. He gave me a special box to put my teeth in for the tooth fairy when they would fall out.

I know these few memories don't do him justice. He was all these things and more. He would hide a piece of the puzzle and save it for last so that he could say he put the last piece in. I hope one day he will share a few more pieces with me so that I can know him more. Well, he is grandpa and I will always love him and hopefully his voice will never fully fade.