Happy Birthday, Grandpa

I would like to point out that it is June 17th and we've only had the AC on once this year. That makes me very happy. Today is also my grandfather's birthday . . . or, I suppose, it would have been, had he lived.  He died when I was 19. Wow. It's actually a little strange to think it's been that long. Almost twenty years now. I wonder what it will be like when I'm 20 years past my mother and grandmother's deaths.

My grandfather wasn't perfect. He did a lot of things that caused many problems and he made a lot of mistakes.  It seems like the people I'm around want to express this kind of constant vicious litany of all of his negative qualities. It gets really disheartening because, while I know what they are saying is true, I don't want to just agree and keep the discussion going.  He was my grandfather and I would like to show respect for the dead.

Like I said, I know he wasn't perfect. He was still someone I loved though, someone I still love.  As difficult as living with him and my grandmother could be at times, it is still the safest and most secure my life has ever been. We fought, but I was allowed to be myself and go about life as I wished. I knew I was loved.

The main reason I know I was loved has to do with my grandfather's favorite story.    He would sit by me and smile and tell me how he drove my grandmother to the hospital the night my mom was having me.  He said it was the hardest wait he's ever gone through.  And he would say, "When I finally got to see you, you were red and this long." He would hold out his hands, measuring the length of my newborn self.

He would have this look in his eyes, that kind of look someone has when they are remembering something wonderful. My grandfather didn't just love me because I was his kid's kid. He loved me because he truly saw my existence as something amazing.  He was in awe of the idea that his daughter could have this new baby. I think part of him always stayed in awe of that.

He watched me grow up. He watched me suffer and ache. He watched me have some pretty awesome moments of greatness . . . he dealt with me when I was being a bitch. Sometimes I disappointed him. Sometimes I infuriated him. Sometimes I really hurt his feelings. Despite all of this, he still loved me.  And I suspect that when he looked at me, part of him saw the ME that was standing there.  Another part of him saw the the baby . . his little, red baby who changed everything for him.