My knees were hurting me for weeks…

Now that you are gone all I can think about

is how you used to say, “I got old legs…”

I don’t really drink anymore, but recently

we went to the liquor store and they put

all the bottles into paper bags. It makes me

think of your cans of beer in the bags. We

never went anywhere without them. Trips to

Burger King and your Fillet-O-Fish.

And this… the ball rolls out into the street,

“You can always get another ball, but

you can’t get another Bianca.”

And now that you’re gone, we can’t ever get

another you. That really, truly and deeply

hurts.

I cry over the loss of you and the role you

played in my life. I sit and wonder what our

relationship was actually like.

I worry, even though there is nothing to be done

anymore, about if you were scared in the end…

about if you were sad and if you were lonely.

Did you know that you are loved?

Do you know?

I can hear you whistling sometimes.

We’d be miles away, or at least what felt

like miles away, with our quick little legs

and your “old” ones… and we’d hear you

WHIIIIISTTTTLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

STOP. Immediate stillness. You had us trained.

When we’d hear it we’d freeze. Usually because

you needed to catch up.

Tuesday Grandpa Days I’d come back with

my clothes all a mess and you’d say to mommy,

“I always bring them back… they may not

be clean but they always come home safe.”

Now I hear that whistling all through the house.

From the basement we’d hear you, every day, all

through the house, to the point of insanity.

Thank goodness for that now because I know

I will never forget it.

And I’m sorry about your truck by the way.

It was a very scary moment for me. And I

feel I was so overwhelmed by the whole experience

that I never got to fully acknowledge that I wrecked

your truck. And because of my actions, you had

to get a new one.

That van though!! Oh that white and blue

van brought laughs. I don’t know if it was the

van or you who couldn’t go over 50 miles per hour.

A one hour trip to the mountain house

would take at least two hours and feel like three.

Thank you for creating that space for us. I ache

when I think about how much time you may

have spent up there, waiting for us to come.

We were there though. In so many different ways.

We were there. And so were you.

Thank you for coming to Ireland to see my

final performance for my masters.

I still remember you shouting and grumbling up

at mom (really at me, but through mommy) when

she told you I was moving to Ireland.

“What is she going to do there? What is the degree

in neuroscience for?”

I have a flash of a memory of you sitting at my

apartment after my college graduation ceremony,

enjoying your tacos. We did that.

Now… my move brought us both to Ireland. You

saw me on stage twice, once at the Cork Opera House…

Cork, where your family comes from.

My friends and girlfriend at the time told me that

you cried the whole time. I love you. So deeply.

For whatever reason and all the reasons, that just floods

my heart with so much love.

Snap pants and belly shirts and bright sneakers you donned.

No matter where you were. Though I know that you also

did love to dress up. And you were handsome.

And yes… we know… when you cut the shirts in half

it is half the laundry.

But is it really though?

I admire your sense of adventure and willingness to do things

on your own. You have gone farther than I may ever go in

this world. Australia really feels too far for me. But when I

think about how you were there on your own in your 60s, I

feel a deep sense of awe for your commitment to explore.

I’m sweating as I write this, nervous for the depth of my

grief in your passing.

Where do we go gramps?

I don’t want to hide in my fear of death anymore.

I miss you tremendously and I wish it wasn’t so

that you are gone from this Earth.

We have some stuff in common you know…

Yes actually I would say that you do know.

One thing that comes to me is how you kind of

wanted everyone to do things for you. Like plan

your trips and get your phone and make your appointments.

And you wanted everyone to do things for themselves,

for your love. As I’m writing these words I can see

how I have inherited this. And how I am aware

enough now to realize the pattern. I am working to

transform it for both of us.

Another thing… a sense of adventure and experimentation.

And a lot of patience with people.

Remember Yolanda and Frankie?

Awh man I used to love visiting them.

And bringing them bagels and coffee.

There was something about the way you treated them that

I think about now and it helps me to understand your deep

sense of dignity. It’s beautiful to feel it now. I love you.

And I laugh now when I think about all of the different

ways you spelled my name.

Bioncia was my favorite.

It felt like a conditional love, but I know it was love.

One of the things I love thinking about

is how much you and Smiley loved each other.

And how if you’d go away for a day or few

you’d come back and see her and go, “Smi-ley-tee-tee-tee-ta!”

She’d wag her tail so hard I felt like she would

break in half.

I close my eyes and I can see you both

sitting in the living room, you on her spot

and she on the floor sitting upright beside you

waiting… for her snacks. Whatever you had

in that cup, she knew it was for her too.

Two pals. One for grandpa, one for Smiley.

Two for grandpa, one (and sometimes two) for Smiley.

She got pretty fat during that time.

And you’d swear it had nothing to do

with you. You affected us all.

You still do.

This really hurts and doesn’t make sense

to my mind even though my heart knows

this is life and everyone has their time.

I still feel your time came too soon.

I love you my dear, beloved grandfather.

I will forever cherish the book you gave me

and chuckle at the memory of you asking me

to color your puma sneaker stripes in with a

sharpie. And to mark an R on the right and L on the left.

Was that for you or me? I still question the right and left.

I wish you’d have forgiven more easily. I wish

you’d have opened your heart more quickly.

But I also accept and love you exactly as you are.

This has been my work as I have grown older.

And I will continue our family legacy for better

or for worse. When I know better I can do better.

Well, this is goodbye for now. And this one feels

personal.

I love you deeply. I miss you as deeply.

Your life has impacted me greatly

and your death possibly even more greatly.

To use your words… “I will follow you

whoever you go…”

As much as I still fear it, I know it is

true. That I will follow you where you

have gone some day. Until that day

I am a part of your legacy and through

honoring myself I honor you.

I love you gramps.

Love,

Your ‘number 1’ grandchild

(the first one, not the best one)