I never had the chance to let you know how much you meant to me. We never had a lot of time together, but in those short visits, you did so much to make me feel like I mattered to you.
The greatest thing you did for me probably seemed like the silliest thing to you. Do you remember the “hawk” game? Looking back on it, I have to think how silly that must have seemed. It was a silly game that required a good deal of imagination, but the fact that I never heard you say that it was silly (you probably mentioned it ot the other adults, but I never heard it) was what made it so special. The fact that you encouraged and valued my imagination is what has made me cling to it.
Every piece of my imagination, that I put into physical form, reminds me of you, and how you didn’t laugh at my vivid imagination. I thank you for that.
I also want to thank you for being there to greet Princess when she crossed. It helped to know that there was someone she knew there for her when she got to your side of things.
Now here’s a bit of an update. My mom stayed in college, and graduated, because you had encouraged her. I’ve graduated high school, and am about two years away from graduating college. I had originally planned on getting a geology degree, but my path has changed to geology education. My dad is back at Hewlett Packard, and we’ve moved to Boise, Idaho.
Grandpa had a stroke last February, and is now in a nursing home. He could use some company, I’m sure…could you possibly go visit with him? And maybe let Uncle Richard know how childish he’s being by not visiting Grandpa? Thanks.
We all miss you, but we’re also glad that you’re not in pain. Uncle John had told us that you had passed peacefully, and that helped us. Oh, your Game Boy still works. I’m the only person I know that still uses the original version.
Thank you, Grandma. I look forward to seeing you, once I get over there (though I’m in no hurry).