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| 1981 |
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| Taking a nap together....looks like he was the one sleeping |
A few things about him.....he used to watch Shirley Temple movies with me and watch me sing and dance on the coffee table. He let me do crazy things to his hair; he always ended up with about 20 pony tails. He used to take me to the store and buy me Fruit Roll-ups when I was a toddler and I always told him that my mom let me get two boxes, which wasn't true. I wasn't allowed ANY boxes. He knew I was fibbing, but he bought them anyway. My granddad was sweet, but he wasn't so to my grandma. He always said "Dammit, Betty," which is what I called my grandma for a while because I thought that that was her name. He never did take that as a clue to stop. He liked the word "Dammit" a lot. When I was 3 and in the car with him I said "Grandad, put your seatbelt on, dammit!" Of course, he thought it was cute...or so I hear.
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| I loved Shirley Temple, probably because of my granddad. I am on the right in the tutu, the enormous doll is in the middle, and my sister, Ashli, is on the left. |
He used to pay me for artwork until I was around 10 years old. I stopped drawing them because I thought he was getting ripped off. My pictures sucked, but he would give me a dollar or two per picture. I starting to do the Picasso thing, or something you would call abstract, but if I were being honest, I would call it what it really was...a lazy scribble....I couldn't draw with a clear conscience at that point. When I quit drawing pictures for cash, he would give me dollar bills just for visiting him. I would get up to leave (even as a teenager) and he would say "Wait!" He'd reach into his billfold and pull out some cash. He always had my grandma get 5's and 1's so he could give us each some money.
When I was little, he would take me to basketball games where the cheerleaders would fuss over my pig tails and chubby cheeks. He loved that, or so I hear he did. I don't remember. When I got older, I was a cheerleader. Anything about our football team that was in the paper, he cut out and gave to me. I was in the paper a few times and he made sure to put those in "
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| He wrote me letters when I was living up north with my mom. This one is so cute because he is all excited that he can write me; I am "the only grandchild who can read!" |
I don't remember my granddad ever walking. I only remember him being in a wheelchair because he had diabetes, very bad diabetes. I remember watching him give himself insulin shots. I sat and watched, mesmerized, until it was so normal that I didn't realize how very sick he was. I took his life for granted because he was sick the entire time I was alive. One time he went into shock and I was the only one there. I found him, collapsed and passed out on the floor. I remember thinking he was dead as I panicked and called 911. My grandma was a diabetic too (they weren't healthy at all) and she went into shock and was passed out on the floor when I was around 2 or 3. I remember that too; I was alone with her. I think about it now and realize what a terrible disease it is; I really didn't realize how sick they were.
My granddad had to have part of his foot amputated because diabetics lose circulation in their feet, and I guess he got an infection and it turned gangrene. He had tried to hide it, but I remember seeing it and getting very upset. The morning of his surgery, I was 17, and I came over to see him. I told him I loved him and that I would see him later. I hugged him and acted as if I would see him again, because I thought that I would. He'd had surgeries before and I didn't see how a foot amputation would be serious. I was a dumb kid.
I went to school and at the end of the day; I went home with my friend, Jamie. I remember sitting in her living room and I popped up and said "I need to call my granddad. He is in the hospital and I need to check on him." I called him and he seemed fine. I remember telling him how my day was and telling him I loved him. He said "
That night I stayed at Jamie's and got a phone call at 3 in the morning. My granddad had a heart attack from the medication and he died. I had an extra hard time with it because I hadn't been prepared for it. I didn't understand how he had made it through the surgery and then died later. Also, losing him came at a really bad time. From December to April, I had totaled a car by flipping it 4 times and landing upside down; it was a miracle that we hadn't been killed. My sister has a scar down her back, which I still feel guilty about, and she had a friend in the car who could have been killed....all three of us were very lucky, but still cut up from climbing out of the car onto the glass that had been all of the windows, and all because I didn't know how to control a car when hitting water. I felt so much remorse. I lost about 10 or 15 pounds from anxiety and had nightmares for months about car accidents. I couldn't drive anymore because I too scared. My grades went down the tubes because I felt bad and couldn't sleep, which led me to get kicked out of Anchor and kept me from cheering my senior year. On top of that, my dad and step-mom were getting divorced and I was separated from my sisters....along with my other sister and brother, who lived with my mom. That year sucked. Losing Granddad was the worst, and I didn't deal with it at all. The day of the funeral, I went to Disney World with my boyfriend. It was his idea, but I went, and it was weird. I refused to cry or get upset about anything, but that summer, I cried a lot and finally dealt with everything.
I think that when my granddad died, it was almost the hardest to watch my dad. My dad and his dad were so close. I almost feel like my dad didn't make a move without talking to him first. Now he had lost his best friend. It was really hard for him, as it always is when someone dies.
I may not think about him a lot, but I have always been so thankful that I went to see him that morning and that I called him after school. I don't think that there could have been better words exchanged for the last time I was going to talk to him. I know he loved me. I wish he could see my kids, but I feel like he probably does.
Here are some more old pictures:
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| My Granddad owned some land and he gave it to the city, but the condition was that the trails in the park were to be named after his grandchildren. My trail is spelled wrong. Here are my cousins and brother and sister posing with my sign. Don't have a clue where I was. |
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| My mom and my dad with me at Sea World |
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| Nice mustache, dad! HA! This is at my grandparents' house and this is my very first memory. I have written about this before. I was 15 months old. I remember getting whiskers painted on my face. |
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| This is me before my brother and sister were born. |
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| And then they ruined my life and cried all of the time. ;) |
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| My dresses all had bells in them so when I swished, I jingled. |
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