Remembering my Grandfather

10 years ago, on my mother's side, my grandfather died of a heart attack in his sleep. My mother to this day actually still believes the woman he married later poisoned him. There was a time, shortly after my grandpa's death, that I lived in depression. I missed him so much despite not really having spent much time with him at all. There was something about him though that really inspires me.
His name was John T. Merrill. I remember that if you asked my grandfather what the T stood for he would tell you it stood for trouble. In fact the T actually stood for Tremonte and that is what people called him. Most of the time I spent with my grandfather was in childhood and those memories are painted with children's crayons. They lack the details of the man. I have the basics anyway. He was bald, tall, and very blue collar. I knew he was a taxi cab owner, a World War II vet, a father of three, and a lover of Hudson automobiles and airplanes. He took three wives in his time.
I have a few memories that I can only hope are accurate considered they were recorded with a child's brain. One of the first is staying over at his house. I remember he and I ate ice cream late at night. We ate bowl after bowl and I remember my grandfather really enjoyed eating ice cream. It wasn't just something he was doing for me. The man was like a child at heart sometimes.
I recall the great trip that we took. He brought along his son, my uncle, along for the trip. It was a Hudson road trip. A trip to go and visit Hudson Car shows and some family as well. He is best known for his love of Hudsons. In fact we drove a 1954 Hudson Hornet on the trip. It had that old car smell. You know the kind that seems to permeate the very fabric of the interior?
There were trips to the Auto Show in Iola, Wisconsin. We would camp at the show and I spent the night in Grandpa's green old canvas tent. I remember he sleep walked down the road and we had to go get him.
When he was a young man he served in the Navy during World War II. My mother said he often told her "life at sea was a great escape from your mother."
Whenever he started a car he liked to announce "and we're off!"
But the main thing that I mourned was the loss of his love. A voice tells me "oh now don't fret your grandfather loves you still, from his place where you go when you die." I felt like a child around him. Most of my childhood was spent feeling more like an adult, but around him I could be me. He was a grandfather to me the way a grandfather was, at least in the way I viewed it, the way a grandfather ought to be. He adored grandchildren and liked to see them happy. He was a great escape from normal family life.
I suppose the depression regarding his death has finally ended and I've moved on since then. Now he serves as a role model for the way a grandfather ought to be.