The Memories

         My grandfather was a one of a kind person, Someone that everyone loved and respected as a person. Joe was a person who was kind, would drop everything to make one person happy, especially one of his eight grandchildren, or his wife, Carol. Grandpa Joe taught lessons on being the best person that you could be, how to respect others, and if you didn't you could tell when he was disappointed. If it wasn't for my grandfather, I would not be the person I am today.
         Happy memories and moments will always stick out in my mind about him. One memory was not happy at time, but looking back, makes everyone laugh. Grandpa owned a truck parts shop-A Truck and Trailer. One day around Christmas, my two cousins and I had thought it was a good idea to walk in an attic that we weren't allowed to walk through, mostly because it was very dangerous-but what two little kids are going to listen to that?! I started walking around, not using support beams like my cousin, I was adventurous, I was having fun! What could possibly go wrong? My outfit resembles Santa Clause--I was wearing bright red pants, and black shoes--all of a sudden, half of my body went through the floor, into the ceiling of the show room, and knocking over a display with one of the ceiling tiles!
"Oh my gosh! Alison, what are you doing?!" my mom screamed
"Help me! I'm stuck!"
"Don't let go, Alison Nicole! You'll get hurt!" screamed grandma.
         Grandpa ran to my rescue, probably dying of laughter and anger at the same time, carefully pulling me out of the floor and running down the steps with me. I had scratches and cuts everywhere from the jagged edges of the floor, and of course, was dusty because of the attic floor. Although there were ceiling tiles on the floor, the place was a mess and dusty, grandpa only cared that I was okay, and wasn't traumatized from falling through a ceiling.
         When Grandpa Joe's time was starting to become limited, he was going to chemotherapy multiple times a week, he was very weak, tired, and wasn't himself. It was my birthday, we had a birthday party before school started. I was going into third grade and I was turning nine. I was so excited to be able to celebrate with my grandpa, but he was sleeping on the couch, he obviously did not feel good, at all, being nine and not completely able to understand that he was sick, and needed his rest to try and feel better, I was visibly upset that I was not at all able to spend time with him. My mom pulled me aside and explained how grandpa was sick, and trying to make him spend time with me was selfish, especially trying to make him feel better before he could. I spent the rest of my birthday making sure that I wished for him to feel better, and could spend the rest of his life with me.
         From my birthday in September, to the beginning of December, grandpa was rapidly getting worse, physically, and emotionally. Spending most of the time in the hospital, and later getting transferred to home hospice care. Our last Thanksgiving, he was in the hospital, and we spent the holiday in a bigger city, surrounded by family and close friends, continuing the tradition of spending time together as a family during the holidays. Everyone came down to celebrate the holiday in the hospital, driving as far as four hours to be able to make it. My uncle Jerry led us in prayer, the grandkids sitting right next to grandpa on the hospital bed. We prayed for strength, for all of us, and to be able to withstand an unlikely occurrence that we all knew would happen eventually. During Christmas time, grandpa Joe was at home, being more comfortable in his own home, rather than a hospital. With the help of hospice, and my uncle Keith, they could make that happen. New Year's Eve was the last time that grandma would get a midnight kiss from grandpa. On January 3rd, 2008, school resumed, and I was back into Mrs. Peterson's third grade classroom. I knew my grandpa would not be with us for much longer, and I was told that I would not going to be in school for the rest of the week-Thursday and Friday, and would be going home early that day. I knew something was wrong, so I asked if I could call my parents, and see what was going on. I was told that my grandpa had died, and I asked if I could go home early. That was the first day that I cried in school.
         Grandpa has made a significant impact for someone who hasn't been physically around for almost eleven years of my life. This year I'm getting married, and my fiancé's idea was to incorporate our past grandparents, but most importantly, Grandpa Joe. We are having our wedding at my grandparent's house, and having the color of his re-built car be our main wedding color, with pops of pink and ivory in the mix. We're not just having the wedding there, we're all getting ready there, getting married, and dancing the night away with grandpa looking down on us. It's crazy to think that when you're young, you think that everyone is immortal, and then coming to terms with the first death you'll ever understand, is the one that you never thought you would lose. I always thought my grandpa would be there to watch me graduate, get married, and see his great-grandchildren. Never once, did he see that, not physically at least. I'm grateful that my grandma is still around though, and I cherish her like she is the person on top of my list to care for. It's also crazy to know that my fiancé has went to my grandpa's grave, and sat down and told him about himself while I wasn't there. He had just told me this recently, and he has been doing this for the length of our relationship. I think that if my grandpa were here, he would approve of him, just like everyone else does.