100 years ago, this coming Sunday, would have marked my grandpa’s 100th birthday. He won’t see this birthday, and hasn’t seen a birthday for over 15 years, but every year, on his birthday, I do mark it, in my own way, by making sure to take the time to reflect upon my time with him. And it’s made me realize that I really, really want to still be here for my 100th birthday to celebrate with my big, crazy, chaotic family.
My grandfather was a difficult man to put it mildly. He lived through many traumas early in his life that were more influential on shaping the angry, conflicted man he became much more than the positive and loving influences in his life. I don’t know that he ever had an uncomplicated relationship or ever really felt understood, loved or cared for, and I honestly don’t know if he ever stopped to think about that either.
But I loved him. He was larger than life in my eyes, as a young girl. And he loved me, as much as he was able to love anyone.
He, like many people, mellowed a lot as he aged. I like to think that had he lived to see this birthday, he would have finally been happy. And I do wish that my grandpa were here to see my family today. He would be so happy to see me married to a man who fixes things, loves cars and tools, not to mention, loves me. And he would delight to see so many rough and tumble little boys with their lopsided smiles and fierce determination to trump his brothers and he would smile in seeing Ms. Moon, with her blond curls and completely heart-melting smiles. He would probably get a real kick out of seeing her manhandle her brothers into order too 😉
So, Happy 100th Birthday, Grandpa. You are gone, but will never be forgotten.
