Today is March 17, 2012. Today is my Grandpa John’s birthday.
It is strange to know that almost 5 months have passed since I said goodbye to him.
And now you rest, you rest from your long struggle with Parkinson’s disease, a struggle that made my own heart ache. But may you know that when someone asked me what my Grandpa was like–I said, “He’s strong.”
Today is your birthday. I wish I could spend it over at Cayucos and play in the ocean you watched every day. I wish I could bring you some sweet dessert for you to enjoy after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I wish I could tell you all about my time at High Sierra. I wish I could hear you and my brother talk basketball. I wish I could ask you to tell a story–a funny one, so that you would laugh too hard to finish, face involuntarily crinkling up in a bright smile at each attempt. A gene I’m proud to have inherited.
I love you Grandpa, and I miss you.
“When I die, whatever you might say, don’t say I’m gone
Gone is not the word for someone who finally found his way back home.”