I loved my grandfather Dave but not like this.
Dave and I did have our moments. He had a lab at the old house in the basement. Sometimes we’d go down and mix formulas, then I’d run upstairs with two beakers of clear liquid and show whomever I could how pouring one into the other changed their colour. One time it ended up purple, which was pretty cool.
Dave would grin from ear to ear if something tickled his fancy. That’s the image I hold. Other than that he wasn’t really reachable. Most memories consist of him in his Lazy-Boy, watching TV and picking his teeth/nose/ears, playing his mandolin (I guess that was picking too) or yelling at my grandmother while he drove. (He never let her drive for good reason).
I don’t resent this or him, though it’s a shame there isn’t more to draw on.
Then there’s Terry. Husband to my mom, Father to my brother and sister, Stepdad to me, Grandfather to my four nieces and nephew and fully present and engaged with all of us. Terry taught me how to play tennis, how to drive and how to commit to the things you love. There’s more, much, much more but that’s not what I want to tell you about.
What I want to tell you doesn’t need words. In fact it’s summed up perfectly by Anousha’s expression in this picture. Yes, she’s mocking him too, but that just makes it better.