So, this blog was started with the intention of being a sort of “write every day” type of thing. I wanted to challenge myself to do something new and different. As you can see, I was not very successful by day two.
In all honesty, I wasn’t able to write at all this weekend, as I was in California for my grandad’s funeral. And, to be honest, I came to terms with the fact that real life gets in the way. Sometimes we have to get out of our little bubble of good intentions and deal with the raw, unsavory moments in life.
I don’t mean to wax poetic or philosophical here, but I feel like I need to put this acknowledgement in writing as a way of telling myself that it is okay to start again. A few days of not writing is not the end of the world.
In all honestly, I intended (and still do) to make this blog about topics unrelated to my direct personal life, as I already feel that too much of me is out there roaming about in cyberspace. I want to post things about music, cooking, hobbies, and all that jazz. You know, the typical bloggie topics. I want to write about fun things. There I go with those intentions again.
Today, however, I want to take a moment to deal with real life. So, if you will allow me, I am going to borrow a few moments of your time…
My grandad was an extraordinary man. No one can remember one negative thing about him. He was a one-of-a-kind father, grandfather, great-grandfather, friend. Everyone who met him liked him. This is not an exaggeration. My cousins and I would often brag about how we wished everyone had a grandad, because he was so awesome.
At the funeral, my uncle talked about a special “patience and kindness gene” that my grandad possessed. This is, without question, something that I will take with me forever. It was my grandad’s patience that made him such a fantastic grandfather, in particular. He never told you he was too busy or acted like he didn’t have time for you. He would get on his knees and color with you. He would play along with your childish antics and silly games. He loved children and was a big kid himself.
I suppose this is one of those lessons about the effect we have on others. Are we acting in the way we want to be remembered? Do we have standards that govern the way we treat others and ourselves?
My grandad became very ill with a rare disease when my father was young. He endured terribly painful treatments to try to battle it and wanted to give in. On the way to the doctor one day, he told my grandmother that he would rather die than get another treatment, but that he endured it because he had a family.
This all seems to common sense to me, but it has moved from an abstraction to something concrete for me now. Even in his passing, my grandad is still teaching me. And this is something very special.