I was eating a bowl of Cheerios last night when it hit me: My Gramps (or Pops, as I’ve taken to calling him in the last few years…) won’t be waiting for us to come visit him in the summer or during the holidays. I won’t get to spend long, leisurely days with him while my mom and sister go dip their feet in the bay — Pops watching Matlock with the volume at full blast while I surf the Web.
I won’t get to listen to those stories from a generation completely foreign to me — stories that opened a window into Pops’ life. He grew up on the streets of Chicago with three brothers, and from what I can tell, he was a bit rebellious at times. He met my grandmother, fell in love and left for World War II in the span of just a few months.
But what I’ll miss the most? That’s easy. His love. How can you sum up someone who lived such an extraordinary life? I’m not exactly sure, but all I know is that the world is a better place because Pops was in it. He made a difference. He touched lives. He loved his family. But most importantly, he was loved by all who knew him. I love you, Pops, and will miss you every single day. Thank you for everything you’ve given me and for shaping the person I’ve become. I’ll miss our days spent together… xoxo
P.S. More gifts from grandparents.